


What Happens at Malfoy Manor Stays at Malfoy Manor

by EvilDime



Series: Malfoy Manor [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Breathplay, Caning, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Rings, Crying, Deepthroating, Dubious Consent, Dungeon, F/M, Fainting, First Time, Flogging, Het, Lap Sex, M/M, Mindfuck, Nipple Torture, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, PWP, Sex Toys, Slash, Under-negotiated Kink, Vaginal Sex, Virgin Harry, Virgin Hermione, Voyeurism, virgin Ron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3598404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilDime/pseuds/EvilDime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Snatchers took the Trio to Malfoy Manor, no-one expected the Malfoys to take quite such an active interest in them. (LM/HG, NM/RW, DM/HP)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Moral guide: I suppose what happens here is dubcon at best, in at least one of three cases (hence the rape warning); yet it may look suspiciously like consent. In real life, circumstances like these will certainly not lead to anything consensual (children, do not try this at home...) Also, these wizards have spells against any and all STDs, as well as contraceptive charms, so they can go bare-backing it as much as they like. To any Muggle readers, however, I highly recommend always using protection. ; )
> 
> Chapter guide: Hermione and Ron's chapters are dub-con, but not all that kinky; Harry's chapter is fairly consensual, but kinky as fuck. ^^ Each can be read as stand-alone, so if you don't care for a specific pairing, just skip it - you don't miss any relevant plot. :P
> 
> (The first line is a direct quote from JK Rowling's Deathly Hallows.)

_"What is this? What's happened, Cissy?"_

" _Obliviate_ ," answered Narcissa Malfoy coolly and steered her disoriented sister out of the room, where Lucius Malfoy had already taken the equally confused Snatchers. 

Draco and Lucius Malfoy smirked at each other. "Maybe they should not have brought their prey here, but how were they to know?" Draco said.

"What enters Malfoy Manor belongs to the Malfoys," Lucius said haughtily. "It is entirely their fault if they keep forgetting this rule, as well as the other house rules."

"The important one being: What happens at Malfoy Manor stays at Malfoy Manor," said Narcissa, returning. The three shared a grin. Then three stunners raced towards the Trio in perfect unison and Harry, Ron and Hermione sank into darkness.


	2. Hermione

Hermione slowly struggled towards wakefulness. Her sluggish brain refused to fully engage, like one might feel, she imagined, if they had been drugged. Where was she...? Something was wrong, but she could not quite put her finger on it.

She was lying on a soft mattress, her hair falling in soft, clean waves into her face. She felt truly well-rested. Blinking her eyes open, she looked upon an opulently furnished bedchamber with beautiful, large armoires, elegant chairs and a fancy dressing table; long, flowing curtains were covering the windows.

There was actually rather a lot wrong with this.

She remembered being on the run with Harry and Ron. Her hair had not been entirely clean in weeks, much less had she rested on a lovely bed in a well cared for, quiet chamber such as this. But all of these discrepancies could be ignored when compared to the fact that she was a) tied to said bed and b) completely naked.

Her breath hitched.

When the door to the chamber opened and the sound of firm, brisk steps came from behind her, she tried to curl into a ball to protect her modesty, and possibly display less of her body for attack - but to her dismay, not only her arms, but also her legs were so firmly tied to the bed posts that she could barely move an inch.

"Ms. Granger," Lucius Malfoy's voice came from over her left shoulder, "how lovely of you to join me here tonight."

Hermione could not say a word, it took everything she had to firmly clench her teeth and keep them from chattering in fright. Even for someone who had grown up as sheltered, in some ways, as she had, it was very hard to mistake the situation she now found herself in.

"No greeting? I was told that mudbloods have no culture, but I was not aware they also have no courtesy." Lucius _tsked_ a rebuke.

A hysterical laugh escaped Hermione's lips. " _Courtesy?!_ " she exclaimed. "Like tying a girl to a bed naked is courteous?"

Lucius stepped around the bed and into her line of sight. She shuddered visibly at the mild smirk on his lips as he casually let his eyes roam over her body. "I consider myself very courteous indeed," he proclaimed loftily. "After all, I could have done anything I wanted to you in your sleep. Instead, I waited until you regained consciousness. What more could you want?"

What more, indeed! Hermione firmly closed her eyes and forced herself to think.

She had not expected Malfoy to ever be kind or courteous towards her, of course. But she also certainly had never expected _this_! ...Actually, what she had expected was that he would hand them all over to Voldemort. But... maybe he had! Maybe Harry and Ron were even now dead at Voldemort's hands, and only she was alive, and left to Lucius Malfoy as a plaything!

_Oh my God!!!_

"What... what have you done to Ron and Harry?" she asked fearfully. She knew their game had been up even before Malfoy - Draco, that is - had been so conspicuous about not recognizing them. Why he had even tried in the first place was a mystery to her. It wasn't like he owed them anything, or profited from not handing them over to Voldemort. Right?

"Nothing yet," came the cool reply. "The three of you have been brought to my manor, and until I decide differently, you belong to me. My life may be bound to the Dark Lord, but the Lord of Malfoy Manor always had sole command over his manor, and so it shall be until the day the last Malfoy dies. The Lord will not be notified of your presence here until I am done with you."

Hermione frowned. Did that mean he was betraying Voldemort, or merely sneakily carving out some morsels of the prize for himself before handing it over? Was he more likely to deliver them personally to Voldemort once he was done with them, or keep them here forever; or maybe - the wild hope would not be entirely ignored - even let them go?

Lucius's smirk widened. "I know what you are now thinking, but no matter what I tell you, there is no way for you to find out the truth. Thus, I will not even bother.Instead let me make your position right now very clear to you: No one on either side has an inkling that you are here. For all anyone but the Malfoy family knows, the three of you are still running through that forest half-cocked, fleeing the Snatchers, nearly starving, and never quite letting down your guard enough to really get a full night's sleep.

"The truth, however, is that you have slept for a full twenty hours. You have been fed three full meals by magical means, the House Elves have bathed you and cured all of your minor injuries, and now you are here, at my mercy, and there is nothing anyone could do about that. You are here entirely on my whim and at my pleasure, and you cannot know if after this, I will deliver you to Voldemort, or kill you, or hand you over to one of my associates.

"You do not know if you will live to see tomorrow."

Hermione gulped. Lucius sat down next to her on the side of the bed and mock-helpfully offered her a glass of water, which she sipped from with his assistance, resenting but also welcoming the gesture.

"You also do not know what was in that glass," he continued. "But let me enlighten you: It was a powerful aphrodisiac. What you can expect in the next exactly two hours is extreme agony, unless you are allowed to seek satisfaction. Very hard to do, I am sure I need not tell you, without help and with your hands tied to the bed."

Hermione mentally called herself nine times a fool for accepting anything he offered her. But then again, she thought resignedly, it wasn't like she could have kept him from putting the stuff into her, even had she struggled.

Every fibre of her body tightened in shock when Lucius's hand lightly touched the inside of her thigh. Her entire being was focused now on that hand as it slowly trailed up towards her hips. She gasped as it feathered against a few darker hairs, just barely missing her most intimate spot, and coming to rest gently on her left hip.

"Now," Lucius's voice had turned into a deep, rumbling purr, making him sound as dangerous as a crouching lion, "you have two choices. You can fight this. You can choose the agony of going against your body as the potion courses through it; against me, on whose mercy you are currently entirely dependent; and against the desires you are even now denying you feel.

"Or you can give in. Remember that you might not live to see tomorrow. A spell confirmed to me that you are still a virgin, as if my son's characterization of you hadn't already made me certain of that fact. Now, dear little Hermione, do you really want to die an eighteen-year-old virgin?"

Hermione gasped again as the hand slowly moved inward, brushing ever so lightly against her clit. A second hand was lightly coming to rest on her left breast now. The grip firmed, clenching the breast tightly and sending a spark akin to electricity down her body right to the point where the first hand was once again brushing against her.

_Oh-my-god-oh-my-god!_

Her body was aflame with desire. She assumed it was just the effect of the potion, but how was she to know? All she had ever done with Ron was some very lovely kissing. He had never even seen her naked, much less touched her as intimately as this! Then they had travelled around with Harry, the cramped quarters killing any thought of true intimacy.

Well no, she could be honest with herself if no one else: she actually had entertained some fantasies about going ahead and ravishing Ron where he lay next to her, Harry and danger be damned! But of course, she had never acted on those desires. It would be cruel towards Harry to make him listen when he had no-one, and even worse to tempt fate by being so distracted when danger lurked all around.

Only now, danger had found her regardless.

Danger in the cruelly handsome form of Lucius Malfoy, who was even now blowing against her nipples, which were perking up despite her best intentions, as though they were reaching for his caress. The man's long blond hair was teasing her bare stomach when he leaned forward to feather a kiss against her throat.

Then Lucius sat back up, still looking down at her with a mild smirk. His hand travelled over from her left breast to her right, also caressing and kneading that, and she watched in breathless anticipation as his fingers reached for her nipple and gave it a good pinch.

Her back arched off the bed and she yelped in surprise despite herself. The movement brought her sensitive centre back up against his left hand where it still lay on her inner thigh. Lust flared up brightly inside her at the contact and she sobbed with helpless desire.

She realized she had clenched her eyes tightly shut, and she quickly opened them again. Her eyes met those of Lucius Malfoy, no longer smirking, but looking down at her intensely. Slowly, his face lowered towards hers until their lips met.

There was no hesitancy, no fumbling innocence, no boyish second-guessing himself. This was the firm, dominant kiss of a man who knew exactly what he wanted and had no doubts at all about his own proficiency. His kiss was nothing like Ron's.

_...Ron!_

Hermione wrenched her lips away. She loved Ron! She did not want to be kissing Lucius Malfoy.

But the man took her chin in hand and adamantly turned her face back towards himself. His lips came down again, and when she tried to clench her teeth, fingers dug into her jaws until she was forced to open them. His tongue pushed its way forcefully inside, invading her, conquering her, claiming her for his own. Another sob rose from her throat, but the sound was cut off by his mouth on hers, muffling any noise of protest.

Then his tongue withdrew, his mouth lowering towards her neck and starting to nibble and suck there. The hand released her jaw and trailed down to her breasts once more. Hermione would have arched up again when her other nipple was pinched, but Lucius had now lain down on top of her and was pinning her to the bed. The motion did raise her hips a little, though; enough that she was suddenly hyper-aware of the large, hot erection straining his elegant suit and pressing up against her belly.

"Oh," she gasped. She felt her cheeks burning with helpless shame and desire.

Hands, his hands were so very _present_ , touching her, soiling her, pleasing her, she did not know what to think or say or feel any longer. This was so very wrong, and dangerous, and she did not want it and yet she _did_. Her vaunted intellect could not help her in this situation whatsoever. She had been abandoned to her instincts, and those were yelling at her to run into three different directions all at once.

Another helpless, strangled gasp left her as one of those _hands_ feathered down her side. Her entire body shuddered and she felt her mouth once more going dry. She swallowed painfully. The body on top of her own started moving against her, just tiny motions, the hard erection brushing over her clit with deadly precision.

"Ngah!"

"What a pretty voice," Lucius darkly whispered in her ear. Then he said nothing for a long time, happy to just slowly move against her, building his rhythm little by little, but not _quite_ enough, until she could barely stand it any more.

"Please," she whispered, hating herself for it. "Please!"

"What do you want me to do, lovely lady?" Lucius asked, and Hermione could lie to herself and pretend his tone was warm and caring.

"I need... I need more," she sobbed.

"Oh, but I will not give you more," Lucius whispered, and how could she ever have thought him caring?

"I hate y-" she started to say, then heard that he hadn't been quite finished speaking.

Now, he continued. "Not without a price."

"What?" she pressed out between clenched teeth, hating him for still keeping up the slow, torturous rhythm. "What do you want?"

"I want you," he said and another shudder racked her body. "Do not think for one minute that this is all I desire of you. What you feel up against you needs to go inside you, or I shall be very displeased. Do you think you are ready for that?"

Before Hermione could gather enough of her thoughts into a coherent process to formulate an answer, he had already half rolled off her and slid a hand between her thighs. It was hot there, and very wet. She whined.

Lucius puffed out a laugh. "It seems to me you are indeed ready. So, mylady, is this what you want?"

Hermione's body was screaming _YES_ , but something in her was still fighting the idea. This belonged to Ron, dammit! "Ron...", she sobbed.

A smack to her face caused her eyes to fly open. "Do not talk of another man when in bed with me," Lucius growled. Then he relented a little. "Am I to understand you have been, ahem, 'saving yourself' for the Weasley boy?"

If looks could kill, Hermione would now be short one jailer-rapist-lover.

A smirk answered her. "How about a little bargain? You give me free access to the rest of your body, heeding all my commands, and I shall not endanger your virginity. I can promise you an explosive orgasm, as well. What do you say?"

 _YES_ , her body was screaming once again. The little voice from before was still protesting, but her cool intellect had rallied enough to join the discussion this time, and it argued in favour of her body. After all, Lucius Malfoy was in such a position of power over her, he did not have to bargain with her at all. Right now, if he wanted to fuck her, he could just take her and there was nothing she could do. This was a good bargain.

Clenching her eyes tightly shut, and clenching her fists, she gave a single, choppy nod.

"Very good," Lucius purred. "Then you will now show me how well you can keep your word. You will allow me free access to your mouth, you will not bite me and you will not shirk your duty. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes," she said with a trembling voice. In wonder, she noticed the bonds on her arms and legs fall away, setting her free.

Lucius, meanwhile, was opening his trousers and leaning up against the headboard. He was pointing unmistakably at the straining erection that now freely stood up from his middle. "Well then, girl, use your mouth."

Hermione gulped. But it was either this or formally losing her virginity. Hesitantly, she sat up from where she had been lying on her back, then got on her knees in front of Lucius. She looked at the cock, a long, hard, solid phallus with a straining, angry-red head and a prominent vein trailing down the length of it.

She was shocked to feel her mouth water at the sight. Her eyes narrowed. _Pretend_ _this is a lesson like any other. There is a need to study this, in order to later do well at it when it counts._

She leaned forwards determinedly, putting her hands on his thighs and lowering her head.

The first lick at the tip was a shock. Salty, bitter liquid had gathered there, and the taste was unexpected and also somehow made it more _real_. She swallowed hard, then once again pulled herself together and lowered her lips to the straining head. Slowly, she took the tip inside her mouth.

Now that the first drop was gone, there wasn't so much musk and the contact was quite bearable. In fact, the soft skin stretched taut over the steely hardness underneath was a startling contrast, and fascinating to feel. Hermione shyly touched her tongue against the side of the erection. The vein stood out to her sense of touch. Tonguing against it some more, she determined that it would not be damaged if she went about things a bit more firmly, as she was sure she'd have to eventually.

Right now, actually, before Lucius got impatient with her bumbling, amateur attempts at oral satisfaction, and decided to go back on their bargain. So Hermione closed her lips more firmly around the head and slowly slid down the shaft.

She did not make it all the way down. Irritated, she drew back and tried again. Lucius laid a hand on her head, just a soft touch to the hair.

Once again, Hermione did not make it all the way down. Her ambition awoke from its petrified slumber where fear and lust had pushed it, and focused on the new task. There had to be a way to do this!

Hermione tried. She tried and tried, until her lips grew tired and her jaws ached. Stymied, she resorted to licking up and down the hard shaft, pondering how else to tackle this problem.

"Lick right underneath the head," Lucius's voice purred down at her. "There is a bit of skin there, very sensitive. Pleasure it."

Hermione followed the order and was rewarded with the first groan out of the man she had been trying hard to please. Her ambition was somewhat mollified by the success, but still not quite happy. Also, desire was still coursing through her own body, and fascinating as this was, it was not satisfying her.

The hand on her hair finally moved. Fingers curled into her nape, pulling her off the frenulum and up, until she was looking straight into Lucius's grey eyes.

"Good, little girl, but not quite good enough. I will show you how it is done."

A wave of his wand tied her hands behind her back before she could protest. The hand returned to her nape and pushed her back down again. She shakily aimed for the cock and once more took it into her mouth. But the hand did not let go there. It kept pushing, and pushing -

Hermione choked. _Too much!_ Oh God, this was too much! It hit the back of her throat, and still the hand kept pushing and it hurt and she was choking and - and the thing went down her throat.

Hermione could make no sound, but her head was frantically pushing upwards. However, the hand on the back of her neck stayed firm, and with her own hands tied behind her, she had no leverage, and no way of fighting back. Tears were welling from her eyes, running down her cheeks in large rivulets, and she was getting light-headed with lack of oxygen as the man kept fucking her throat.

It must have been just seconds, but it felt like minutes later when the hand on her nape pulled back and allowed Hermione to raise her head. Sputtering and gagging, she gasped for breath. She looked up at Lucius with something like betrayal in her eyes. He may have forced her into this, but so far, he had not hurt her. And now this.

His voice was very nearly kind, this time, as he said: "I will not choke you to death. And while you may be a bit sore tomorrow, it will also not damage your throat permanently. ...Maybe you will enjoy this more with a little more incentive." Another wave of his wand summoned a flat disk that looked like metal, but was warmer and soft to the touch. The disk flew between her legs and came to rest against the already highly stimulated clitoris. There, it started humming.

"Ah!" This was new, and it was good, and Hermione totally lost focus of her fear and sense of betrayal for a moment. The lust from before returned with a vegeance. Then two more objects came flying, these ones attaching to her nipples, circling them and tightening at the same time, until they lay curled around the little nubs, sporadically tightening and sending sparks of pleasure-pain down her body. Hermione's brain was close to short-circuiting with the different stimulations and she had a hard time even staying aloft on her knees, what with the tied hands and having to lean forward...

Hermione was lost to the sensations, and floating on the emotions the tiny vibrator and magical nipple-rings were stirring up, she stopped worrying about everything else for some time.

Until Lucius spoke up once more. "Now try again."

The pleasure abruptly receded to the point that she was suddenly quite capable of coordination once more. Fear now mingled with excitement flooded her and set all her senses to high alert as the hand returned to her neck, inexorably pushing her down again.

Hermione frantically drew in a breath before she once again met with her doom. She remembered just in time that she had chosen this, and she did not want the alternative, so she overcame the reflex to clench her teeth and instead opened up, rolling her lips over her teeth, and once more took Lucius's large erection into her mouth.

And then down her throat.

It still burned, it still made her gag and want to hurl. But at least, this time she was not afraid for her very life. She suffered the erection dragging against the back of her throat as Lucius fucked her face, she felt her own spittle nearly choking her, and just hoped it would be over soon.

Lucius let her up a little sooner, this time, and somehow he seemed to have increased the intensity of the vibrator while she was not paying attention, for as soon as she had taken two large lungfuls of air, she became thoroughly aware of the throbbing between her thighs. In another life, she might have been ashamed of the wetness dripping down her legs, yet as it was, the heavy, musky liquid trailing from her mouth and down her chin was a much more immediate concern.

But both of them paled against the sensation as Lucius once more dialled up the frequency on the vibrator.

"Aaah...!"

Then the hand was back, pushing her onto Lucius once again.

This was too much, it was overkill, Hermione did not know what to focus on any longer: the bitter taste of the precum as the cock passed through her mouth on its way down her throat; the thrumming of her blood underneath the skin between her legs where the vibrator was driving her _mad_ ; the hand on her neck, gently caressing her even as it was forcing her down, forcing her to choke, and it was disgusting, and it was glorious, and the hand pulled her head up, and Hermione couldn't _think_ -

"Aaaaah!"

Her body spasmed, twitching, curling in on itself, all of her muscles clenching and unclenching at once. Heat shot from between her legs throughout her body, warming her stomach, her ass, her thighs, rising up into her head and making her dizzy.

Her orgasm was brilliant, and bright, and brutal.

Panting, she laid her head onto Lucius's trouser-clad thigh, only slowly finding back to herself. The vibrator had gone silent and the other toys had also become inert.

"Well, now," Lucius's amused voice sounded from above her. "Very nice to watch, such fun indeed. However" - she flinched at the sudden coldness in his voice - "not very sporting at all to take your own pleasure and leave me unsatisfied, now is it?"

With horror, she realized that he still hadn't come and her task was far from over.

But she was completely shattered! She could not focus just now on keeping her teeth covered with her lips, or trying to make any sort of coordinated motion! Oh, how awful that she had come first! Now he would say she had not kept to the bargain, and then he would take away what she had saved for Ron!

A desperate tear rolled down her cheek where the others had only just stopped flowing.

Again, Lucius's voice, when it came, sounded amused. "No need to despair, little lady. I need not deflower you if I want to take my pleasure in your body. The female body is blessed with such an abundance of openings, after all."

Hermione needed a moment to comprehend what he was saying. When she puzzled it out, however, she felt her cheeks go flaming red once more. "You could not possibly mean...!" she began, before breaking off, scandalized.

Lucius chuckled. "It is quite normal, I assure you, and perfectly harmless if done correctly."

And before she could gather her thoughts for a well-reasoned protest, he had already pushed her around on the bed to have her knelt facing away from him, and a slick, cold finger was circling her asshole.

 _What if I'm dirty back there?_ oddly was her most prominent thought at that moment. She knew that people did this, of course, but she had thought it was only men. Also, she had heard it could be painful, and she was certainly not looking forward to that. But more than anything, she was afraid that she would be disgusting, back there, and so she did not want Lucius to look, to touch.

"Don't, it's not clean!"

Lucius just laughed and slipped the finger inside.

_Oh._

This was actually... not all bad. Hermione wriggled her posterior a little as the finger moved inside her, trying to get comfortable with the feeling. The way the well-lubed digit was rubbing up against her rosette was not entirely unpleasant. Hermione had the surreal feeling of actually looking forward to the second finger.

When it came, it burned. But in a way, it was a good burn and Hermione moved into the touch.

Lucius's dark chuckle from behind her made her cheeks burn, but at the same time, she felt oddly proud for being able to do this. She liked being successful, and after the feeling of failure that the oral thing had given her, she had sorely needed this affirmation of her own capability.

A third finger entered her, and the burn this time was painful, but Hermione stubbornly pushed back against it. She wanted this, and so she was going to do it!

"Such a determined little lady," Lucius's voice caressed her. "I do believe that needs to be rewarded." Without a sound, the toys on her clit and nipples came back alive.

"Aah!" Hermione twitched and nearly fell, but caught herself just in the nick of time. Lucius rose up on his knees behind her and extended a hand to her shoulder, keeping her balanced as his fingers fucked into her with increasing speed.

"Aargh!" Hermione gasped. Her tender parts were already primed from before, and the added stimulation of her ass being used so roughly excited her with unexpected intensity.

Then Lucius withdrew his fingers. His other hand left her shoulder, giving her bare cheeks a tender caress on the way down. The moment had come. Hermione's arse clenched in anticipation before she forced herself to relax. Clenching would do her no good, she knew this.

And she really, really wanted this.

So she relaxed. The tip bumped up against her, hands held her hips, spreading her cheeks, then one hand drew back to guide him inside. Slowly, inch by inch, he sank into her. And it was fucking amazing.

Once he was fully seated, Lucius stilled. Hermione waited with baited breath for his next actions; she could feel he had lost his clothes - finally! - and was as naked behind her as she was. Lucius seemed to reach for something, and with wonder, Hermione realized it had been his wand - he had freed her hands. Gratefully, she let them fall down to the mattress, finally gaining back a sense of balance. A whole flock of muscles in her lower back and shoulders relaxed at the lack of need to keep her upright. Hermione turned her head and gave Lucius a smile across her shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow in answer. "Ready?"

"You bloody well better believe it," she said and felt ridiculously daring.

The answering laugh tingled warmly between her thighs where the vibrator seemed to pick up speed once more.

Then Lucius moved. Slowly at first, but quickly gaining speed, he fucked into her with ruthless abandon. Hermione was glad to have her arms underneath herself once more, for even with them, she had a hard time keeping upright, meeting his thrusts. But meet them she did.

At some point, Lucius pulled her back against him until Hermione was sat in his lap, and told her roughly to "Move it!"

It wasn't easy, with just her kneeling legs for leverage, and she propped her hands onto his thighs to help her. But she managed. Once again, the surreality of her situation struck Hermione: She was riding Lucius Malfoy, and having a great time of it!

A laugh ripped free from her sore throat. She barely recognized her voice. The laugh was a scratchy, throaty thing, deep and husky, and fucking sexy. She loved it.

So did Lucius, apparently, for he lowered his mouth to her neck after hearing it and started frantically kissing the skin there. Then his hands came up to pluck away the toys on her nipples, replacing them with his own hands. Those hands started squeezing her breasts in the same rhythm she was fucking herself on him.

Suddenly, a sharp bite to her neck startled her - and with a scream, she came for the second time.

Lucius pulled her close to himself as she shuddered, riding out her orgasm while riding him. Then he bent her over and as she lay there, propped up on her lower arms, he fucked into her with abandon. Hermione's breath came in heavy pants, but so did his now, and only a very short time later, she heard him groaning.

Heat flooded her, then the thrusting slowed. And finally stopped.

Lucius pulled out of her, spent. He gently pushed Hermione forward until she was stretched out on her belly, head at the foot end of the bed, feet pointing toward the headboard. Intense heat covered her as Lucius lay down on top of her.

A kiss was feathered against the back of her ear. "I thank you, little Hermione," was whispered into it. Then the body on top of her shifted slightly so as not to crush her, and Lucius lay down beside her, with one arm thrown over her back, cuddling her close.

Exhausted, and feeling warm and lethargic, Hermione allowed the closeness and slowly, contentedly dozed off.

It may have been half an hour, or hours later, but when Hermione woke, Lucius was still sleeping next to her like the dead. Gently, she pushed his arm off her and slid out of the bed. Finding a pair of pants, a shirt and a wizarding robe, she quietly slipped into them, then tiptoed out of the room. Before closing the door behind her, she gave the man sleeping on the bed a long, considering look. Then she turned around and quickly walked away.


	3. Ron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose this chapter blurs the lines even more, but to me, it's still firmly in the less-than-consensual corner.

A loud snore startled Ron awake, but he quickly realized it had been his own, and calmed down again. He wondered at the crick in his neck until he became aware that he had apparently fallen asleep sitting up. Did he get drunk with Seamus and Dean or...?

Oh. 

Seamus was supposed to be in Hogwarts, but Dean wasn't. The Snatchers had picked him up, along with Ron, Hermione and Harry. They'd been brought to Malfoy Manor. 

_ Oh bloody hell. _

Carefully, trying to be inconspicuous, Ron slowly pried open one eye. He rather expected to be faced with a dark, cold and moist dungeon cell, despite the soft cushions he could feel underneath his butt, and despite the warmth of the sunlight on his face, and despite the lovely scent of tea and scones invitingly wafting towards him...

Oh, all right. Even Ron wasn't that dense. Throwing caution to the wind, he opened both eyes and sat up, looking around with some vigilance, but also a lot of enthusiasm for what his nose had announced.

Indeed, there were scones. And clotted cream, tea with milk and a delicately worked tray holding lumps of sugar, as well as some grapes and slices of apple and pear. 

Across the little coffee table from Ron sat Mrs. Malfoy, looking every inch the aristocrat, and apparently not at all fazed by the fact that her guest had been snoring on her lovely little settee that probably cost more than the entire Burrow by itself. 

Ron tried to sit up a little straighter and tried not to be obvious about wiping his sleeve across his face in case he had drooled in his sleep or something equally as embarrassing.

"Mr. Weasley," Mrs. Malfoy addressed him, and her voice was not as cold as he remembered from meeting her at the World Cup - albeit every bit as aloof. "I wish to welcome you to Malfoy Manor. Please, be at ease and have a cup of tea with me."

Ron wanted that tea, and especially those scones. But he did know enough strategy to recognize that eating what your enemy offered was generally not the brightest idea. So with a heavy heart, he declined. "No thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. I am not hungry."

"Not hungry? After traipsing about in that forest for weeks on end? Do not be absurd. Besides, what growing boy is ever truly not hungry?"

Ron tried to keep a straight face even as he whole-heartedly agreed with her. Coming back to join Harry and Hermione once more had been the right choice. Easy, though, it was not. They were hunted, tired, half-starved and absolutely clueless what to do. Ron trusted Harry to see them through this somehow - he always did -, but he had begun to think that this time, a greater miracle than usual would be necessary. Resignedly, he lowered his head and clenched his fists. 

"Mrs. Malfoy, I do appreciate the gesture, truly. And I have no wish to insult you; but honestly, were our places reversed, would you eat anything I offered you?"

A tinkling laugh answered him. "Oh, is that all? That is easily remedied. Look here, Mr. Weasley, I shall be quite open with you." She placed an item on the table between them that Ron had often admired in the display in a hall on the way to his father's office. A gem of truth. No falsehood could be spoken in its presence, otherwise the crystal would give off a red gleam. 

"Is this real?" he asked, the awe audible in his voice. Those things cost a fortune, but were entirely worth it to a person with enemies and false friends. 

"Why don't you give it a try?" The lady looked at him with a challenging smirk.

"I am Stan Shunpike," Ron said. The crystal pulsated with red light. 

"I feel safe, here." A red glow. 

"I am good at chess." Nothing. 

"I'm not the brightest button in the box." Nothing, once more. Did that mean it was true or just that he personally believed it to be true?

"We will all be alive at the end of the year." A mild glow. Ron shuddered. He did not even want to think about what that said about their chances, or about his own attitude towards their task.

"I am lazy." A very emphatic nothing. "Alright." 

He focused back on Mrs. Malfoy, who had lost the smirk and was watching him with quiet intensity, now. "I did not think you were such an earnest young man," she said quietly. 

Ron barked a laugh. "Friends and acquaintances dying all around you in a senseless war tends to sober a person up some. Abandoning your friends and having them nearly die in the process is just the icing on the cake, really." His voice was heavy with self-loathing. What if he'd returned just one day later? Harry would have died, and Hermione left to deal with it all on her own.

The crystal had remained plain and dull throughout their conversation. 

"Mrs. Malfoy," he now took the initiative, "why bring this crystal? Why do you even want to put me at ease? We are already in your hands and you can do to us whatever you wish. Why try to seduce us?"

The smirk slowly returned. "Seduce you, you say." The phrase was a sibilant hiss on her tongue. Ron felt heat creeping up his face. "Yes, that is precisely what I am doing. Now, as to the purpose of the crystal: You need to be aware that none of the food or drink on this table has been tempered with in any way, shape or form. Also, you need to know that neither one of your friends have been hurt or killed, nor are they going to any time during their stay at our manor. That is the truth."

No glow from the crystal. 

Ron hesitated. "It... it could be set not to react to your voice."

Mrs. Malfoy laughed. "Such a sceptical young man. But you are correct to be careful, of course. Let me think of a lie. Ah, yes: I prefer solid, nourishing meals over fancy, enticing little treats." The crystal emitted a red glow. 

Ron gave a lopsided smile. It was just what he would have expected from a Malfoy, but the irony in her voice as she said it made her appear just that little bit more human to him. Still, they were prisoners here. He mustn't forget that. "You say Harry and Hermione will not be hurt or killed here. What about elsewhere? Will you give us to ...to You-know-who so that he will kill us? Also, you said nothing about me, actually."

She smiled at him, pleased, as though he were a pet that had shown it had learned a new trick. "What a well thought-out question!" 

Ron struggled not to preen.

"You may include yourself in the previous statement. Yes, neither your friends nor you will be injured or killed while inside this manor. And no, you are not going to leave it as prisoners of the Dark Lord. More than this, however, I cannot say at this point."

"Fair enough," Ron admitted. It was frustrating - there were still so many options! They might stay prisoners in this manor until they were old and grey! Or they might be allowed to walk free, only to be picked up by Voldemort as soon as they set foot outside the property. Or... But overall, Mrs. Malfoy's promises were a lot more than he had dared hope for right before that stunner knocked him out. In fact, he had not expected to even wake again. So this was already better than his highest hopes, by a large margin. Might as well enjoy it, then.

Slowly, he reached for the tray and served himself a scone and some clotted cream. Mrs. Malfoy gladly poured him a cup of tea from the expensive-looking, tall and thin porcelain teapot. Before sinking his teeth into the scone, though, Ron had one important question: "Why this, then? What is he purpose of this shared afternoon tea?"

He still had an eye on the crystal, but after adding milk and sugar to his tea, could no longer resist the temptation. Thus the lady's answer caught him with a mouth full of hot, sweet tea. 

"You already said it: the purpose is to seduce you."

Ron snorted a bit of tea out of his nose. With flaming red cheeks, he hastily grabbed a napkin and tried to fix the mess he had made, wiping the tea from his shirt and jeans. Which were remarkably clean apart from the tea, now that he thought about it. Meanwhile, Mrs. Malfoy continued.

"Not, as you might have imagined, to seduce you over to our side. Rather, I wish to just plain seduce you." She cocked her head as if considering if her words had penetrated his brain. "That is to say, I intend to have you. And believe me, what Lady Malfoy wants, Lady Malfoy gets."

Ron shivered. Those eyes now focused on his body were intense. The lady of Malfoy Manor looked like a dangerous predator considering some tasty prey she wishes to devour. Was he a mouse to her, or a potential mate? What could this refined, adult woman see in _him_ , of all people?

Ron clutched at his cup of tea, the scone all but forgotten  on its plate  in front of him.

" I... I understand what you are saying," he hurried to stop her from clarifying any further. "What I do not understand is why. "

Her smile was proud and self-assured. "I just want to. Need I have any more reason than that?" The crystal glowed a mild red. Annoyed, she followed his eyes over to the stone. Then with a not-so-ladylike snort, she admitted. "Alright. So maybe I have a bit of a taste for... shall I say unspoiled innocence? I like young, impressionable, easy-to-please men - men, note, not boys. You are of age, are you not?"

Ron quickly nodded. "Eighteen already, in fact," he said a bit proudly, already feeling ridiculous for his pride even as he said the words.

"That is well. As I was saying, I like toying with men who are not yet set in their ways, who will allow a woman to show some dominance, to guide them, to teach them. To me, this is simply a bit of fun before the political games must be continued."

Ron eyed the crystal nervously, but it refused to glow. Apparently, this was the unvarnished truth. This lady was talking about casual sex, with  _him,_ and to her it was 'simply a bit of fun'.

Ron did not know whether to laugh or cry. 

"Again, meaning no insult, Mrs. Malfoy, but you may have noticed that I am in a somewhat weaker position here, and will most likely be unable to relax enough that this could possibly be fun for either of us, if you know what I mean." His cheeks were still giving off heat like a little oven. 

Mrs. Malfoy just laughed. "I am confident in my ability to get you interested no matter your current level of tension. However, to make you a bit more comfortable with this entire situation, I ask you to please walk over to the door and try the handle."

Ron frowned at her, but got up all the same and pushed down the door handle. It did not move. Leaning against the door did not help matters, nor did kicking it. 

"It is locked with a time seal," came Mrs. Malfoy's voice from behind him. "It will not open for another three hours, no matter what you or I do. Also, I left my wand on the other side. So as you see, I am as much at your mercy as you are at mine."

Ron blinked. Then he slowly turned around to the woman. He was easily a foot taller than her. With slow, deliberate steps, he walked towards her. She got up and just stood looking at him, the picture of coolness. Leaning in, he knew he was towering over her, and he suddenly felt a rush of power. She did not flinch away as he placed one of his large hands around her throat. "What is to keep me from killing you right here and now?"

She gasped a soft little breath. The sound went straight to his crotch.  _Bloody hell._

"You are not a murderer, Ron Weasley." That was all she said, but it was enough. He knew she was right. His grip loosened. However, far from stepping away from him, instead she overcame what little distance was left between them to mould her body against his. "Also," she whispered seductively, "if you kill me, I can not give you all the pleasure I wish to share with you."

This time, he actively pushed her away. "I am sorry, Mrs. Malfoy, but my heart belongs to Hermione." Let it not be said that Ron was not loyal. He knew he had messed up several times in small ways - and once, big time; that one time was enough. He would never again abandon his friends, nor the love of his life. 

However, Mrs. Malfoy had other ideas. "Are you so sure that love and sex always have to go hand in hand, Mr. Weasley?" She gave her tinkling little laugh again.  "I do believe that your girlfriend is a bit more open-minded than that."

Affronted, Ron turned on her once again. "What do you know?"

"More than you think," Lady Malfoy said with a condescending smirk, which - dammit! - still made her look spectacular.  "You are already aware that this crystal works as intended, so you will believe me, I am sure, if I tell you that this two-way mirror is also authentic."

She took said item from a davenport next to the window and placed it on the coffee table. Ron sat back down on the sofa and looked at it curiously. "I will believe that, yes," he agreed.  "So where does this lead to?"

"It connects to a mirror above the dressing table in the master bedroom," Mrs. Malfoy said with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.  "Directly across the room from the bed."

She activated the mirror. Ron leant forward to look at it. He recognized Mr. Malfoy at once, then blushed beet-red once more when he noticed the naked woman in bed with him. "Mrs. Malfoy!"

"Look closely," the lady said calm as you please, as if that wasn't her husband engaging in adultery in their shared bed.  "Does the girl not look familiar to you?"

Ron didn't mean to look, he really didn't - but it was like a broom accident, he told himself, you just couldn't look away. This had nothing to do with the fact that the girl had a truly beautiful body, or that besides the mags his friends had shared, he had had no exposure at all to graphic sexual depictions and this was just bloody  _hot._ The girl was kneeling in front of the man, lowering her head into his crotch and  _sucking..._

_Oh blimey, that's hot!_ Ron wanted to snatch the mirror up from the table to have a closer look, and never mind that this was  _Mr. Malfoy_ having sex! It was the hottest thing he had ever seen, especially since the girl had the loveliest, wild brown hair, and if she would just look up, he was sure she'd have the most amazing eyes - 

Then he recognized Hermione. 

"Oh Merlin." He suddenly felt a bit weak-kneed.  It was a good job he was already sitting down.

He did not resist when Mrs. Malfoy slipped onto the sofa next to him, sitting very close and draping an arm around his shoulders. A faint scent of roses tingled his nose when she leaned against him. "You poor, slighted man," she said softly. "But if you truly love her, you will not hold this against her. Just as she would not hold it against you if you were to also make the best of a hopeless situation with no way out, or would she?"

"No..." he said, not sure himself if he meant to agree with Mrs. Malfoy or was just generally protesting the entire situation. 

Hermione was giving head to Mr. Malfoy. Hermione. To Malfoy! 

He just couldn't wrap his head around that. Why, why would she do this? 

A sudden thought. "Did he coerce her?"

Mrs. Malfoy shrugged. "He might have. But as you can see, she is now rather enthusiastic about the task." The mirror was set at a perfect angle to give an unhindered view of Hermione's nether regions, and even from several meters away, the wetness glistening there was easy to see. 

Ron gulped. The mere sight of Hermione like this was turning him on beyond everything he had ever known, and had it been possible to crawl through the mirror there and then, he would have done it. 

Instead, a hand suddenly slid over his thigh and towards his own middle. 

Ron did not think his cheeks would stop glowing a fierce red any time soon, judging by the heat that was racing through them right this minute. Heat was also pooling in his crotch, and he knew that his erection was currently very obviously straining against the confines of his jeans. 

"Now, I may not be your lovely young girlfriend," Mrs. Malfoy's cultured tones sounded close to his ear, "but I do have one thing she lacks."

The hand reached for his cock and warmly cupped it, giving a single rub. "Experience."

Ron groaned. He could not get to Hermione right now, but there was a living, breathing woman next to him, who _wanted him_ , and who promised pleasure, and experience, and he was bloody hard just from that vision in the mirror. 

Slowly, he turned his head towards Lady Malfoy. The woman next to him on the sofa still looked haughty and elegant, but there were spots of red high on her cheeks betraying her excitement. She was sitting casually on the sofa even as her hand was starting to tease him through the jeans. 

"Now," she said breathlessly, her voice barely audible, "tell me, Mr. Weasley: how do you want me?"

Blond hair. Clear, grey eyes. Luscious, full, red lips. Small, taut breasts. And all of it wrapped in an elegant, but tight white dress that revealed more than it hid. 

"I want to see you naked," slipped out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about it. 

Mrs. Malfoy gave a delighted, breathy laugh. Switching off the mirror - much to Ron's disappointment - she got up and turned away from him. "Be a gentleman and help me with the fastenings, would you?" She coquettishly smiled at him over one shoulder. 

His feet were under him in not time and his hands reached for the hooks at the back of her dress even before she had finished speaking. To touch this woman, to undress her... His hands shook. He forced them to be steady and slowly opened one hook after the other, gazing with desire at the creamy, perfectly even skin that was revealed. When he was only halfway done, he could hold back no longer. His hands slipped around her waist, caressing her body through the dress. 

It felt wonderful. 

Feeling particularly daring, he slowly slid his hands upwards until each was cupping a firm little breast through the fabric. "Oh," he said, and it came out as a half-groan.

Mrs. Malfoy easily leant back against him, granting him full access to her body. Ron's brain felt ready to burst with the new information streaming in. The scent of the woman in his arms, her easy acceptance of his hands on her breasts, her state of half-undress, it was all conspiring to make the blood pulsate in his head and all along his rock-solid cock.

Then her slender fingers were reaching behind her, opening his jeans and tugging down his boxer shorts to expose his erection to the open air. Ron nearly came there and then. He sucked in a noisy breath and bit his lip to keep himself in check.

He wanted to just bend her over the coffee table and take her right here and now, her dress hanging off her half-unfastened, the elegant Mrs. Malfoy reduced to a - no, not reduced. This was so much better than the aloof, haughty look she usually sported! And it was him that was doing it to her!

He wanted her, now!

Ron firmly placed his hands on her hips and pushed her towards the tall window. "Put your arms on the sill and show me what you've got," he directed, his breath now coming in short pants.

Mrs. Malfoy easily complied. She lifted up her own dress, exposing exquisite, lacy underwear, which she carelessly ripped off. There might have been buttons or magical velcro involved, but Ron neither knew nor cared, particularly. The important fact was that she was now standing in front of him, completely exposed, back arched and firm posterior gloriously sticking out towards him, and it was one of the finest sights he'd ever seen. 

Reverently, Ron stroked one hand over the globes of her behind. Here, too, the skin was milky white and immaculate. Slowly, still a bit disbelieving that this aristocratic lady really wanted to get dirty with him, he moved the hand inward, always waiting for a rebuke, for her to call the game, but the words never came. 

Instead, the refined lady arched her back a bit more to give him even better access, and Ron's hand easily slid forward between her legs and found her wet folds. 

_ Oh blimey-blimey-blimey-...! _

One finger entered the wet heat, then another, and Ron stroked along the inside of the folds in utter fascination. Then his body gave an even greater shudder than before and he knew he wanted her _right now_. 

"Are you...? Is it alright if I...?"

"If you are asking if I have performed all the necessary contraceptive and sanitary spells, then the answer is yes. If you are asking if it is alright to go ahead and fuck me already, I will answer you this: What in Merlin's name are you waiting for?" Her tone was at once needy and snotty, but somehow it didn't turn Ron off. 

He was still utterly amazed and not a little flattered that this rich, famous lady that could have had anyone, at least before she was known as a Death Eater, and probably just as much even now, would want to have sex with _him_ of all people. The haughty tone was to be expected, but combined with her current state of undress and her casual wantonness, it made for a crazy and inherently erotic contrast. 

Ron pressed closer, his cock dragging past her opening. He frowned, trying to align himself. She was smaller than him, though, and the angle did not work out. 

Mrs. Malfoy fiercely pushed him away, turned around and dragged him back towards her. Hopping up onto the window sill with an ease that belied her true years, she looked at him with sparkling eyes. "This might work better, for now." Once again, she lifted her dress to allow him unhindered access. The sight of her naked front took his breath away. Not a single hair marred the perfectly white skin, and the heavy, red folds glistening wetly underneath were urging him forward.

Stepping as close as possible to the sill, he once again angled for her opening. Soon, her hand closed firmly around him to guide him inside. 

And suddenly, all was heat and wetness and tight and wonderful and - 

"Ooh!"

Ron pulled back with his cheeks flaming more than ever. "Oh Merlin, I am _so_ sorry!" How could this have happened? He should not have come when he was barely even inside her! He was such a useless tosser! 

Clenching his fists in his hair, Ron screwed up his face and let out a frustrated groan, despite the fact that he had just had an amazing orgasm. 

A soft hand on his shoulder made him open his eyes again. Instead of the expected disdain, Mrs. Malfoy's face wore a pleased little smirk. "If I wanted stamina and experience, I would just stick to my husband, Mr. Weasley. But as I told you, I enjoy a bit of youthful enthusiasm from time to time, even as I am aware of all the downsides. Surely you know that it is not unusual for younger men to come rather too quickly. However, there is an upside to balance it out." She leaned in to whisper in his ear again: "Quick recovery."

Stepping back with a smirk and sitting back down on the sofa, relaxed as relaxed can be, Lady Malfoy had Ron doubting his own sanity for a bit, there. "Won't you sit down again and eat that scone? I am sure you would not want your strength waning, now." Still smirking fake-pleasantly, she patted the settee beside her. 

Feeling humiliated, but also eager for the offered food as much as for a second chance to prove himself, Ron quickly put his clothes in order and sat down next to the shockingly unorthodox Mrs. Malfoy.

The next twenty minutes were spent with Ron systematically demolishing a half dozen scones while Mrs. Malfoy sat next to him, gently caressing his thighs, his belly, his neck and cheeks. The food and the burning sense of shame distracted Ron quite effectively for about the first ten minutes, but then his arousal slowly returned.

When he was once more straining his jeans with an erection that seemed hard enough to drill holes into solid stone, Mrs. Malfoy deigned to free him from his prison for a second time, this time discarding the jeans entirely. She made short work of directing him between her thighs... only for his erection to wither and die, killed very effectively by his nervousness. 

"Argh!" Ron was frustrated, utterly frustrated with his body. Luckily for him, Mrs. Malfoy was one determined witch. Not allowing him much time to stew, she firmly directed him to lie back on the sofa. Then she climbed on top of him and, reaching behind her, slowly unfastened her dress the rest of the way. 

The dress dropped away and Ron got an eyeful. There was a lot more to Mrs. Malfoy than he had previously assumed. 

Ron had, of course, heard that some of the rich ladies had spells sewn into their clothing to make their breasts seem smaller because that was considered more elegant. However, never in his wildest dreams had he suspected the set that had been lurking underneath Mrs. Malfoy's tight dress. 

"By Morgana's bastard children!" he cursed in surprise. 

Mrs. Malfoy smiled, pleased at his obvious admiration. Ron's eyes nearly popped out as she leaned down towards his crotch, placing one breast each on either side of his quickly recovering erection. Then she started rubbing them together, wanking him _with her breasts_. 

"You are... this is incredible!" was all Ron could say. It was the honest truth, at that. This woman was truly incredible. 

It did not take long at all before Ron felt his climax approaching for the second time. He tried to push Mrs. Malfoy off. "Don't... I'm about to..."

"No, you are not," she said firmly. From Merlin only knew where, she took a little band sparking with complicated spellwork and slapped it onto the base of his erection. "That will hold you awhile. For the future, you might want to list potions ingredients or some such to keep it up a little longer, but I fear our time today is a bit limited, so I am cheating."

"Slytherin," he grumbled, but it lacked his usual heat.

"Yes, I am." She smirked widely as she once more pushed him into the desired position. He meekly went along, just happy right now that she had found a way to keep him from embarrassing himself again so soon. 

Mrs. Malfoy made him sit back on the sofa and once again climbed onto his lap. This time, aiming correctly came a little more easily, maybe because he did not have to fear coming too soon. He managed to find the right angle with very little help from Mrs. Malfoy and then held her as she slowly lowered herself onto him.

Both of them groaned.

Mrs. Malfoy put her hands on Ron's shoulders and lifted herself up a little, sitting down on him again with a soft sigh. As she slowly built her rhythm, Ron could do nothing but sit there, holding her hips and stroking them with one hand. Admiring her. 

Until she stopped moving and snapped at him a bit sharply: "Do something useful with those hands! Pleasure me."

"Oh! Sorry! Of course!" Ron blushed again - had it even faded in-between? - and quickly touched one hand to the place where he thought most women had hair. Slowly going downward from there, he felt his way down to where pale, creamy skin yielded to even softer, but slightly ruffled textures. His questing fingers found several folds of joy, but trying to figure out which was the right one proved to be a bit of a challenge.

Of course, Mrs. Malfoy would not be denied her pleasure, and took his hand to direct him towards where she most wanted it. After a few tries, he correctly identified the most important part, the round little nub that had her shivering and giving a little moan of pleasure. 

As Mrs. Malfoy started moving again, Ron felt extremely proud of himself for keeping focused on his hand, sometimes even still touching just the right spot. Men were not known for great multi-tasking abilities, and in this, Ron was an exemplary man. Moving his hand in a coordinated way while Mrs. Malfoy's tight heat was sliding up and down his cock was really asking a bit much!

But he did it, and he was bloody proud of it. Just looking at her wet outer lips moving on him, the wetness glistening in the sunlight, had him gulping hard and struggling to keep going. But the _feel_ , the sheer intensity of it, was so much better even than that sight.

Ron was extremely relieved when Mrs. Malfoy finally showed signs that this was affecting her as it was affecting him. The wanton lady started failing her precise rhythm, sometimes going slower or faster, then nearly freezing on top of him before starting up once more, much faster. Her mouth was open in a silent "Oh!" and her breath came deep and rasping. 

Ron loved the sight, the sounds, and he was grateful for the band that kept him from orgasming even as he cursed it. His hips were pushing up into her wet heat of their own accord, and while one of his hands was still dutifully caressing her clitoris, the other had journeyed up to fondle the amazing breasts that were bouncing along with her motions.

He experimentally pinched one nipple, but had his hand slapped away for his effort. "Not your place," she told him curtly. Ron was too aroused to care all that much. Instead, he bowed his head forward and teasingly licked at the nipple. He was rewarded with a low growl and an even faster rhythm. 

By now, he had given up all hopes of hitting her sweet spot with a well-directed finger. Instead, he was cupping her with his entire hand, just varying the pressure of his separate fingers and trying to go along with her motions. It seemed to be working, for he could feel her leaning into his touch, growing more energetic in her thrusts the more he rubbed, more... dare he say it? Desperate.

Feeling his partner going desperate was a glorious thing. After his earlier embarrassments, Ron felt he was owed this little bit of just balance, and he felt utterly satisfied with his recompense. Seeing Mrs. Malfoy coming apart as he fucked her, that was just, wow. It gave him an incredible sense of power, but it was also just really, really hot. Blond locks had escaped her coiffure, flying loosely around her classy face, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes half-closed in pleasure. 

And even as he watched her intently, her breath hitched. He felt her finger nails clawing into his shoulders. Then she was clutching onto him, growing still and giving a pained-sounding groan. She grew incredibly even tighter around him as her body twitched and spasmed. Her orgasm rolled over her with remarkable intensity. It was a thing of beauty to behold. 

"Aah!", her clear, beautiful voice moaned. Finally, she slumped a little, having spent her energy in coming. 

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then, she righted herself with a self-satisfied smirk. Touching one finger to the band on his prick, she quickly tapped against it three times with the nail. The band unfastened and fell off. Blood and heat once more coursed freely through Ron's cock and he gasped. 

Mrs. Malfoy's smirk widened and she started riding him again, setting a fast, punishing rhythm. Ron held onto the sofa for dear life. 

"Come, my young lover," Mrs. Malfoy commanded. Ron gazed at her satisfied, glowing face and could not help but obey. 

"Ngaaaah!" Hot liquid spurted from his cock, vanishing into the predator of a woman above him. She seemed to be deliberately squeezing around him, milking him dry. His breath hitched and he sobbed as his cock grew painfully sensitive. Mrs. Malfoy did not let go of him until he had lost every last drop. Then she gracefully climbed down, and while he was still a panting, happily exhausted mess on the sofa, she reached underneath the carpet, withdrew a wand from there, unsealed the door and opened it. 

He was too stunned to even come up with the idea of sprinting after her through the open door. As such, he just sat there, slack-jawed, as she said: "This was lovely. We should have tea again, sometime. Farewell!", stepped through the door and let it fall irrevocably shut behind her. 

Ron cursed himself all sorts of fool for being so naïve to believe her when she called herself helpless. 

_ Slytherin! _ he grumbled. _What did you expect?_

Though he had to admit, there was something to be said for the Slytherin approach.  He hoped Hermione had had as much fun with her Malfoy as he'd had with his.

It took Ron two hours, a quick nap, the remaining three scones and the rest of the tea to think of checking if Mrs. Malfoy had  _really_ re-sealed the door behind her. He tried the handle, sure it wouldn't move.

The door opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm not doing Narcissa justice with this chapter. However, this was how she wanted to be written. No matter how often I told her "You are haughty, aloof, very much in control; you do not encourage, you demand" - she still went crazy sex-maniac on my ass and ignored the shit out of canon. Sorry. :/


	4. Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the most consensual of the lot. Also, it involves a lot of posing and grandstanding. I love those boys! :P

He went from unconscious to high alert within a fraction of a second. It took but another fraction to parse the information his senses perceived about his circumstances: Darkness. Scent of stone and a hint of mildew. Icy cold, hard floor. Face no longer swollen, other injuries healed as well. Feeling better rested than he had in months, but still tired. Scar not hurting. Footsteps echoing beyond the door. 

Within about a second of waking, Harry knew exactly where he was: locked up in a dungeon in Malfoy Manor, alone, with someone approaching his cell at a brisk pace, but no Voldemort anywhere near. His hands shackled to the wall next to his head, having forced him to sleep sitting up, were kind of a dead give-away, too. Yet he further noticed he had been healed, after the Malfoys had obliviated every other person that had seen them. 

The question remained, why? Draco Malfoy had lied to protect them, or so it seemed. He could somewhat see his annoying classmate switching sides, but really - his father? Maybe not all of the Malfoys were on their side? Or if the opposite was true and they were, then why was he in a dungeon? Probably, he concluded, the Malfoys were playing both sides, like Snape used to do, and no one but themselves would know exactly what their agenda was until the day they died. Maybe not even then. 

The footsteps that had woken him stopped in front of his cell door. The door creaked open and in came Draco Malfoy. The smug wanker looked down on Harry with a self-satisfied smirk. Harry warily watched the potions phial in his hand as the lean, fashion-aware dandy approached with swaggering, arrogant steps. In other circumstances, Harry might even have appreciated the show he was putting on just for him. Now, however, he was a lot more concerned with the question of whether what looked like an innocuous pepper-up potion might not be something else entirely. 

Malfoy noticed his looks and the smirk widened. "Scared, Potter?" he asked mockingly.

"You wish." Harry nearly smirked himself at the familiar banter, but the smirk was wiped off his face before it could fully form. Malfoy had taken another step forward, bringing him into grabbing range, and pinched his nose shut. His other hand tipped the potion into Harry's mouth, forcefully holding the phial in place and preventing Harry from breathing around it. Harry angrily struggled for a bit, but eventually had to concede defeat. The potion went down his gullet like fire. 

Then, a gratifying cloud of steam exited his ears. Harry tried to mask his relief at finding out it had indeed been nothing more sinister than a pepper-up potion. No sense in admitting any weakness in front of the person who appeared to hold all the cards while Harry himself was shackled helplessly to the wall of a cold, dark dungeon cell. 

Harry coughed a little when his mouth and nose were released, then proceeded to glare at Malfoy. "What the hell was that?"

The left corner of Malfoy's mouth turned down in disdain. "Your friends will be allowed to sleep off all of their exhaustion. But I am awake now, and I did not feel like waiting for you to finish your beauty sleep. However, I also do not wish for you to be too tired to pay proper attention to me. Hence the potion."

Harry did not know what kind of attention Malfoy might be talking about and tried not to let his annoyance show when his traitorous, hormone-ridden teenaged body decided that it _liked_ having Malfoy's attention focused on it.  Instead, he concentrated on the fact that Malfoy had referred to Ron and Hermione in future tense, so they were still alive; and well, at that, if Malfoy could be believed. Of course he couldn't; but until Harry had proof to the contrary, he would still choose to believe in what Malfoy had told him. Ron and Hermione were alive and well somewhere in this manor; any other possibility was simply not an option.

"What do you need my attention for?" Harry decided to ask straight-out. 

"I have some questions," Malfoy said, measuring him with a calculating look. "I need you to answer them completely and truthfully."

Harry snorted. "Uh-huh. Like I would voluntarily give you any information."

"These ones you will," Malfoy told him. The serious, focused tone of his voice made Harry sit up straighter. "First: If I can guarantee that you leave this manor alive and well without falling into His hands - do you have a chance at defeating him?"

Harry hesitated. If Malfoy was still on the opposing team, Harry's best bet would be feigning incompetence and fear, pretending to be no danger at all. However... that look in Malfoy's grey eyes, and that slight trembling in his voice told a different story. Harry felt the line of his mouth firming along with his resolve. "I will **end** him. Even at the cost of my own life."

Malfoy nodded, once. His shoulders relaxed and a mild smirk stole onto his lips. "Then I can promise you this, Potter: You will leave this manor alive and in better shape than you entered it. Any harm that may befall you while here will be fully healed before you go, and we will make sure you do not meet anyone undesirable on your way out."

Harry heard the sincerity beyond the smirk and after what had come before, he was not truly surprised. There was one point in this speech, however, that stuck out as a bit odd. "Any harm that may befall me?"

Malfoy's smirk widened and he leaned in closer. Bending his knees until they came down to the dungeon floor between Harry's spread legs - which were still solidly shackled to said floor, preventing him from closing them to protect his tender bits - he rested his hands on Harry's shoulders and breathed into his ear: "Now here comes my second question: Are you a virgin, Potter?"

Harry's cheeks flushed hot and his body took entirely too much notice of Malfoy's closeness. He could see perfectly well, now, where this was going. 

Malfoy wanted him to defeat Voldemort, so he would let him leave in one piece. 

But Malfoy also _wanted_ him. Any leaving on Harry's part would only be done after Malfoy got what he wanted. Harry was currently without a wand, tied up, and utterly alone. Hermione and Ron, according to Malfoy, were unharmed, but sleeping - and certainly not anywhere close by. They would not come to rescue him. Neither would the elder Malfoys, that much was obvious from Malfoy's talk and bearing. They approved of this. 

Malfoy wanted him. And Malfoy would have him. 

There was exactly one emotion that gripped Harry above all others at that thought: _lust_. Slowly, he raised his head which he had previously hung in embarrassment. Malfoy drew his head back just enough to look at Harry's flushed face, but kept close enough that Harry could feel his cool breath on his cheek. He inhaled slowly, savouring the fancy scent of Malfoy's mouthwash, then exhaled just as slowly. He slowly let a smirk of his own blossom on his lips. 

"Yes. But I am sure you will help me change that."

Malfoy lost the smirk and blinked owlishly. But Harry did not give him a chance to recover. Instead, he kept the hits coming. "I assume from my position in the _dungeon_ , despite your assertions that I will leave in good health - that you are kinky as fuck. You could have just as easily kept me in a guest room, couldn't you? But you chose this. You chose to have me tied up in a dark dungeon, where you can look down on me, feel superior to me, and use me as you please. Am I right?"

Malfoy's deep, answering flush said it all. Still, he spoke up. "I prefer the term 'open-minded'," he said snottily. 

Harry snorted in amusement, but then he scowled. "I have a suspicion that I will not survive the end of this war. Do not mistake me, I  _will_ defeat the Dark Bastard, but I rather doubt I will outlive him by much. As such, anything good I can still have in this life, I wish to take. Who knows what will come after?"

The intense look was back in his eyes, which focused entirely on Malfoy, causing the blond to gulp. "So. I want this to be special. If this is going to happen, there will be rules, and you damn well better keep them, or by Merlin, I will come back to haunt you."

Malfoy's face openly betrayed his doubts, wavering between a sneer and puzzlement. He clearly couldn't decide if he should just override Harry's wishes and take what he wanted without further delay, or listen to Harry's wishes - which might include a real bed, kisses and fluffy bunnies for all he knew. In the end, Malfoy twisted his lips in a moue of distaste, and regally demanded: "Let's hear them, then."

Harry's smirk never wavered. "Very well. Here we go. You will cast a monitoring charm, and whenever that charm tells you that I am seriously unwell, you  _will_ stop."

Malfoy nodded. This, he could do; it was a very reasonable request. 

Harry continued. "Outside of that charm, however, I want you to pull all the stops." His smirk widened even as his breaths became shorter. "I want you to take me like you mean it. Hurt me, fuck me, use me. Make me scream. I want you to wipe this fucking dungeon floor with me. I want you to make me beg and cry, take me to a place where 'no' means 'yes' and 'please' means 'harder'."

Malfoy's pupils had dilated while Harry spoke. His hands dug into Harry's shoulders like claws. 

Harry lost the smirk, his smouldering eyes boring deeply into Malfoy's. "You will take responsibility so I will have none. Leave me no room to say or do or decide anything on my own. When I walk out of here, it will all have been you. Your fantasies, your actions, your perverted ideas. I am just your puppet, your tool. A hole for your use. I will have perfect plausible deniability, for I had not a chance in hell to resist you."

Malfoy frowned even as he was visibly shaking with desire. "Why do you want this?"

The smirk returned. "Because I wish to let go completely. I do not want to second-guess myself, or my performance. I don't want to worry if I do things right, or what my friends will say. I just want to _feel_ , for once, and not think. Can you do that?" The challenge in his eyes was both mocking and intensely serious. "Can you make me forget this fucking war for just this one day? Make me forget who I am, who I am destined to kill? Can you make this _good_?" 

Malfoy slowly retreated, stood up; took a step back. He mutely stared at his school yard enemy of nearly seven years, shackled to the wall in the Malfoy dungeons and tasking him, Draco Malfoy, with fucking him until he forgot his own name. 

Harry did not interrupt Malfoy as he stood there, obviously thinking hard. He was glad that Malfoy took him seriously. Harry hoped that Malfoy could live up to what he had asked. Maybe Malfoy had just wanted to feel superior to Harry for once, get off, then leave? Maybe he did not want the responsibility of making it good for Harry, as well. Or maybe he wasn't actually as kinky as all that. 

But then Malfoy nodded. Again, it was just a single, wordless nod. That was enough, though. Harry grinned in answer. 

Then Malfoy turned around and left the cell. The door slammed shut behind him with a loud clang. 

* * *

Harry had been sitting alone in the dark and cold for what felt like hours but was probably not even one. He was shivering with a mixture of anticipation and cold and the only thing he was quite sure of was that as soon as that door opened again, there would be no turning back. 

He was losing his virginity today to Draco Malfoy, and it was going to be one hell of a ride.

Harry sat up as straight as his shackles allowed. Footsteps. There were footsteps approaching his cell. 

The door was pulled open with a sharp gesture, and in came Draco Malfoy. He looked just as elegant as before, but now the pretend-coolness was lined with an edge of  _want_ and  _purpose_ that had not been nearly as strong before. 

Malfoy's wand lit two torches in holders on either side of the cell walls. Then he stepped fully into the cell, letting the door fall shut behind him. The sound echoed loudly in the silence of the dungeon. 

"You're mine, Potter," were Malfoy's first words. 

Harry shivered. He forced his eyes to meet Malfoy's defiantly. "I only belong to myself, Malfoy.  _He_ could not break me, so why do you think you can?"

Malfoy flicked several murmured spells against the door,  towards Harry and around the cell, before focusing his entire attention on Harry. He looked down on his helpless prisoner and smirked. "I can, because I know you better than he does." With that, he pointed his wand at Harry's chest.  _"Diffindo."_

Harry's shirt split open along a neat line that travelled from his neck down to his trousers. Cool dungeon air hit the exposed skin and gooseflesh overtook it at once. Harry shivered. 

_ "Diffindo,"  _ Malfoy said once more, and this time it was Harry's trousers that split straight down the middle.  _"Diffindo."_ Harry's pants were no more. 

Blushing fiercely, Harry pulled on his shackles, trying and failing to close his legs, to protect his modesty, but to no avail. He was spread naked and open for Malfoy's perusal. 

Malfoy, meanwhile, just stood there - still fully clothed - and looked at him. Smirking. "Very nice," he finally said, "very nice indeed."

"Flogger," he then muttered. Harry blinked at the apparent non sequitur. A many-ended whip had just appeared in Malfoy's outstretched hand out of thin air. 

_ House elves _ , Harry realized. Apparently, the Malfoys had more than one. 

That was about as far as Harry's thinking went before his brain stuttered to a halt. Malfoy had stepped closer and was now trailing the soft leather strands of the whip over Harry's cock and balls. 

Hot damn. 

That felt better than it had any right to. Harry whimpered and felt his face flush when he realized that his cock was quickly hardening, and Malfoy must have a perfect view of it. 

Indeed, Malfoy was looking directly at the swelling piece of Harry's anatomy. He kept trailing the whip over it, letting it lightly swing back and forth. 

Harry closed his eyes in pleasure. This was not what he had expected, but he certainly was not opposed to the delight of - 

"Aargh!" 

Harry's eyes flew open. He looked in disbelief at his thigh, where the 'soft' whip had just smacked him pretty darn harshly. An unholy light seemed to dance in Malfoy's eyes when Harry met them. The blond man was stood in front of Harry, the whip in one hand, all of the strands bundled in the other, raised shoulder-high and obviously ready to let rip with another hit. 

Harry's entire body tensed. His hands made several aborted motions towards his groin to protect himself. But in the end, he could do nothing but sit there and take it. 

And hope to God that Malfoy's aim was true. 

His eyes followed the whip down as though in slow-motion, right until the strands struck down on the tender flesh of his other thigh,  _very_ narrowly indeed missing his still straining cock. 

"Ooouff."

Again, Malfoy raised the whip, and again, Harry's body seemed to tense yet further. Harry had never known that just  _waiting_ for a blow to fall could be such heavy work. Back with the Dursleys, hits had been predictable for the most part, and once you evaded them and ran away, the tension blew off. 

But here, there was no evading. There was also no running. Harry was well and truly fucked. 

He knew it, and Malfoy knew it, too. The blond still held the whip raised, ready to strike, but did not let go. Instead, he watched Harry's face, saw the tension there, the wide-eyed fear of the whip. And he saw the exact moment when Harry realized that this time, Malfoy was not aiming for his thighs. 

"Wait, NO- AAARRGH!"

Harry's body spasmed as he thrashed in his bonds, trying and failing to categorize the entirely new pain that was coursing through it from where the flogger had come down hard on his cock and balls. "MALFOY! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!!"

A snigger answered him. Harry's disbelieving eyes widened yet further upon realizing that yes, that had indeed been entirely intentional and not a mistake on Malfoy's part. And Malfoy was raising the whip  _again!_

"No-no-no, wait, that is not - NYIIEAAAAH!"

Another hit. "AAH!"

And another. "HAAAAH!"

"GRAHRGH!"

"HHHH-"

"Unh."

"Hhh."

"---"

By now, Harry was clenching his teeth for all he was worth.  His body was twitching helplessly and his eyes were glued to the evil smirk on Malfoy's face as he let the strands of the leather whip rain down on Harry's middle again and again.

When Harry stopped vocalizing the intense pain, Malfoy paused. "Want to beg for mercy, Potter?" he asked evilly. 

Harry did not know where he pulled the strength from, but somehow he found the determination to meet that question with the derision it deserved. "Never!"

Malfoy had clearly expected that answer, though. "We'll see about that," was all he said before handing the flogger back into thin air, where, presumably, a house elf took care of it.

Now Malfoy closed in on Harry again, kneeling down in front of his victim and pushing the ragged remains of his torn clothes further down the arms and legs to get them out of his way.  His hands flew straight into Harry's crotch and took hold of the abused balls. 

Harry whined anew. Malfoy's hands were clearly those of an aristocrat, despite his position on the Quidditch team, and despite frequent manual labour in herbology. There must be spells to keep them this smooth and soft. 

Harry's erection had withered and died as he lost himself in the pain. But now, it was quickly springing back to life at Malfoy's soft touches. To Harry's great surprise, nothing seemed seriously bruised. None of Malfoy's touches hurt him, in fact, apart from an intense heat, he felt as though hardly any reminder was left on his battered flesh from the whipping he had just endured. How...?

Harry would probably never find out whether that flogger had any special charms applied to it, or  if he had simply over-reacted to his very first contact with a ball-lashing. What he did know right then was that Malfoy really knew what he was about. 

That was a good thought. A very good one. 

Harry sighed in a mixture of desire and relief and some of the tension seeped out of his shoulders. 

"Now don't go falling asleep on me, Potter," Malfoy suddenly sneered. That was all the warning Harry got before one of the soft hands left his balls and instead grabbed a nipple and pinched. Hard. 

"AAH!"

"That's better," Malfoy said with obvious satisfaction. 

Harry was panting once more and Malfoy was clearly in his element as he now tortured Harry's nipples with one hand, while still rolling his balls in the other.  Harry did not know what he looked like right now, with his face flushed, hair probably even messier than usual, mouth open and a continuous stream of screams and moans escaping him. But he was pretty sure Malfoy liked it. 

The blond was sat there, pleased as punch, and playing Harry like a harp. Had Harry the necessary emotional distance from the scene, he might have laughed at the kid-in-the-candy-shop look on Draco Malfoy's face. However, Harry was very much part of the action, and as such, had no distance whatsoever to Malfoy's pinching and flicking fingers on his nipples, nor the soft fingers that were now leaving his balls and slowly trailing up his rock-hard erection. 

Harry groaned, drawn-out and deeply. Where  before,  the pain of the whipping had destroyed his erection, now the combined stimulus of pain and pleasure Malfoy's fingers were providing to his nipples and balls had kept it all too alive. It was nearly starting to become painful of its own.

Harry became aware that Malfoy was mumbling soft words into his ear. "That's it, Potter. There is no pain. There is no pleasure. Your pleasure is pain. Your pain is pleasure. There is only feeling. Feel it. Feel all of it."

One long, drawn-out pinch to Harry's left nipple followed those words, increasing  in strength until Harry thought he could no longer bear it, and  _beyond,_ and Harry thought  _It's true, there is no pain._ His brain had trouble keeping track of the immense pain from his nipple and the immense pleasure from Malfoy's hand which was now firmly stroking up and down Harry's erect shaft.  Somehow, the two bled into each other until Harry's erection twitched with the intense feeling in his nipple. 

Finally, Malfoy let go of the nipple, and the pain of  _that_ beat all that came before. 

"Woah," Harry said weakly - and spurted all over Malfoy's hand. His semen shot out of him in a high arch, splashing against his own belly and up, to land between his swollen, red nipples. "Woah," Harry repeated dumbly. "What the fuck."

Malfoy just smirked at him, cool as a you please, and wiped his hand on a fine cloth the house elves must have handed him. "Really, Potter. Have you no self-control?"

Harry flipped him the finger of his shackled left hand. "Piss off."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "You don't really mean that."

Harry slowly roused himself to more awareness, forcing himself out of the pleasant stupor of post-orgasmic bliss. "Mean what?"

Malfoy's eyes were intent. "You don't really want me to piss on you, do you?"

Harry was alert and sitting straight up in a flash. "What? No!! Did I...?!" In a panic, he tried to go back over his words, but couldn't quite make any sense of the last half hour, much less remember a single thing he'd said right after that fantastic orgasm. 

He was extremely relieved when Malfoy laughed and said: "Alright, so that is one squick we share. Good to know."

Harry was just about to relax when Malfoy continued: "However. Now that you have brought me and my bodily functions into this, I believe it is high time I took care of my own body's needs rather than yours. Fun though it was to play with you, I am feeling sorely neglected."

Malfoy opened his fly and took out quite a respectable, and angrily red, engorged erection. The way Harry was sitting, it was right in front of his eyes. He watched it with curiosity and not a little alarm. Where would that go, now?

"You sit right where I want you," Malfoy was quick to inform him. "I do not fancy any biting though, intentional or otherwise.  _Evanesco!_ \- Don't worry, they will grow back."

Harry  _did_ worry, and very much so. His teeth had vanished!!! "Not funny, Malfoy!", he wanted to scream angrily, but it came out rather odd, his pronunciation shot to hell by the missing bits. Then screaming became a non-issue, anyway, as he suddenly had his mouth full of Malfoy's cock. 

"Ngh!"

Harry had never had sex before, and especially not with a guy. Nor had he ever even  _touched_ a prick not his own. To now suddenly have one forcefully shoved into his mouth was a bit much. 

"Suck it, Potter!" Malfoy commanded. 

Harry glowered at him. 

"Still playing coy, are we?" Malfoy's lips twisted in that evil smirk again. " I would have let you go slow, you know." His hand stroked over Harry's hair, then the fingers twisted in it and gave one short yank. "But not now."  His other hand delivered a sharp smack to Harry's cheek.  Looking straight into Harry's fearfully raised eyes, he hissed down at him: "Now that you tried to deny me, you'll find out just what a bad idea that was."

Harry was in serious need of air. Malfoy's hot, fat prick filled his mouth completely, bumping against the back of his mouth and blocking his airway. Worse, after his angry words, Malfoy started shoving it  _further_ inside! 

Harry's eyes went wide as saucers and he once more looked up at Malfoy incredulously.  _Hello, choking here!_ he thought a bit frantically.  _And there's only so much room in a guy's mouth, you know! This is a dead end, stop humping the wall!_

But Malfoy did not stop. 

Tears shot into Harry's eyes and his burning need for air was the topmost thought in his mind when Malfoy's cock forced its way down his throat. Harry tried to bite, thinking correctly that even without teeth, he might do some damage; but Malfoy had anticipated him and before Harry could apply any real force, had jammed the thumb and index of his free hand into Harry's cheeks to forcefully keep them open. 

Harry could not scream. He could not bite. His hands and legs were trapped, and Malfoy was not giving him an inch. Blood was pounding in Harry's head, hot blood was pounding in the veins on Malfoy's cock, and Harry was slowly suffocating with his nose pressed into Draco Malfoy's crotch. 

_ Fuck. Not the way I intended to go. _

His hands were clenched into tight fists, only his legs still twitching a little. Everything else was tense to the point of tearing. Tears were liberally streaming down Harry's face as his body kept trying and failing to draw breath around the obstruction in his throat. 

Finally, _finally!_ , Malfoy slowly pulled back out. But he only exited Harry's throat, keeping it in his mouth. Harry frantically tried to draw breath, but snot was blocking his nose, and his lips would not open any further than the stretch around Malfoy's cock. Malfoy's hold on his cheeks prevented it. 

Panic seized him. He could not die like this. _He could not!!!_

Warmth bloomed in Harry's chest. His magic awoke, and even without a wand, he suddenly knew he was not helpless. Harry's pupils, which had shrunk to tiny dots in his panic, slowly widened again and a green light like a killing curse swirled in their depths. 

Malfoy took one look at those eyes and hastily pulled back. He withdrew his organ from Harry's mouth and released his hair and cheeks, instead raising both hands in a placating gesture. "Potter, don't do anything rash, now."

Harry barely noticed. He was panting madly, struggling to draw in the missing oxygen despite the snot and tears and the burn in his throat. Hacking coughs racked his body and he ended up spitting out a chunk of goo before he finally began to calm down. 

He gave Malfoy a very evil look. "That was a bit much."

"I noticed."

Malfoy slowly approached him again and pasted a somewhat shaky smirk on his face. "Still, you did ask for no mercy."

"So I did..."

"Still want that?"

Harry remained silent for a spell. Did he? He had been truly panicked by the lack of air when he was also lacking control. Images of dark water and mermen with wicked spears floated in front of his eyes. Maybe he had reason to fear situations with a lack of oxygen. "I suppose I don't deal well with suffocation," he said in a conciliatory tone. "But otherwise, yes; I do want to go on."

"Good."

Harry was startled when his shackles rearranged themselves with a lot of clanging and rattling. His body was forced to twist and turn until he was on his knees in the middle of the cell, his ankles far apart, and his arms stretched out above his head, hands shackled directly to the floor. Then, Malfoy made his teeth regrow. It was blindingly painful for a moment, but then his mouth was back to normal. 

Except for the bruises on his cheeks and inside his throat, of course.

"Let's try something new," Malfoy mused. "I think you will like this. - Cane."

Harry tried to glance back, but his wrists were shackled right next to each other, making his arms stretch over his head and effectively keeping his head down. Therefore he had no warning before the cane smacked against his arse cheeks. 

"Ow!"

"A different sound from before; interesting," Malfoy commented and hit him again. 

"Ow!"

Several more hits produced more "Ow!"s, before Malfoy paused, then hit Harry with a lot more force. 

"Oi! Watch it, damn you, that bloody HURT!"

Malfoy chuckled. "That is rather the point. I still did not get to come, you know, so I am a tad bit frustrated right now. And since your bottom provides such an inviting target, I shall now relieve all my frustrations on it. Besides, the hat was right to put you in Gryffindor, did you know that? Red really suits you."

Malfoy followed that with a stream of cane hits, each a little stronger than the previous one. 

Harry was soon screaming and cursing at the top of his abused lungs, and still Malfoy did not stop. His arse cheeks were on fire. Harry was sure it would not take much more and the skin would split and bleed. This was rather different from the flogger earlier, the hard wood did serious damage to his skin and Malfoy was not holding back one bit. 

When Malfoy did pause for a moment, Harry did not dare sigh with relief; he was starting to learn better. Indeed, he had done well to stay alert. That way, he could just so hold back the mortifying yelp of surprise that threatened to escape when Malfoy's _shoe_ pushed up against Harry's crotch from behind.

"You're such a slut, Potter," Malfoy said derisively, yet obviously amused. In a moment of sudden clarity, Harry realized that he had gotten hard again. _Oh my god!_ He'd gotten hard from a caning?

Harry had known he had some deviant fantasies, and as such he had grasped the chance to be pretend-raped by Draco Malfoy with both hands. But he hadn't really expected he would like it so _much_. 

"You want to come again, Potter, don't you?" Malfoy was now saying, and Harry had the dark premonition that no matter how he answered that question, he would regret it. 

"Coming is nice," he offered cautiously. 

"Indeed it is," Malfoy agreed. "What is the most times you have ever made yourself come in one session, Potter?"

"Um, three." 

"Let's make it four, then, shall we?" The smirk was back in Malfoy's voice. "And I will be nice and help you with that. - Potion!"

Harry discovered that it was, after all, possible to raise his head in spite of his taut arms. At least, it was if Draco Malfoy had a hold of his chin and was ruthlessly twisting it upwards. Harry had little choice about swallowing the potion Malfoy forced on him, just like he had no choice about the pepper-up, earlier. 

This potion did not produce any steam and Harry was fairly sure he had never tasted it before. But after Malfoy's words, he had a pretty good idea of what it would do. "I do not need potions to come."

"Maybe not. But you do need this potion to come four times, and recover as quickly as I want you to in-between."

Was that a promise or a threat? Harry decided it was probably both. Expecting Malfoy to go back to caning him or maybe further teasing his hard cock with his shoe, Harry tried to jump a mile despite his shackles when that shoe was suddenly between his arse cheeks. 

He sharply sucked in his breath. 

That shoe wiggled around a little, poking, nudging, then finally retreated. It was immediately replaced by a slick object, nothing large, but still enough to be rather noticeable when Malfoy pushed it inside him. 

Harry shifted around in discomfort as much as the shackles would let him. He'd never had anything in there, and he didn't even know what that thing was! It was thin, smooth and cold. 

It could be anything. 

Malfoy clucked his tongue, then nudged Harry's left leg with one shoe. Was it the same one that had just been between his arse cheeks? Harry flushed brightly at the thought. 

The nudge resulted in Harry's shackles rearranging themselves once more. He ended up supine on the floor, arms stretched out to the sides, legs bent and spread open. "Better," Malfoy said. Taking yet another object out of thin air, he bent down over Harry's still proudly erect prick. 

"Fuck, no," Harry cursed when a ring was pulled tight around the base of his erection. He'd heard of such things, and he seriously did not know how Malfoy expected him to come with that on him. 

Malfoy just laughed at him. "This is not exactly what you think," he said mysteriously. 

"Oh, no?" Harry asked, trying to sound nonchalant and failing utterly. "Then what is it?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Harry could have happily put his fist through that smirk right about now. As it was, though, once more he could do nothing else than lie there passively and _take it_. That was still true when Malfoy took out a third toy, this one a matching set of clamps, and attached it to his already sore nipples.

Malfoy stood up and brushed off his clothes. Somewhere along the line, he had tucked his prick back into his pants. Malfoy looked impeccable once more. He was all poncy nobleman when he looked down on Harry and said: "Well, do enjoy your four times." Then he opened the cell door and left. 

"Malfoy, what the fuck! Come back here! MALFOY!"

* * *

Draco laughed loudly as soon as the door had fallen shut behind him. Maybe Potter could hear him through the door, but if so, it hardly hurt Malfoy's standing in Potter's eyes. Right now, Draco was pretty sure, Potter was busy cursing him with every name in the book for walking out on him like that. 

He'd curse even louder once the torches went out. 

Draco calmly made his way up to his bedroom. There, he activated the large, full-length wall-mirror that connected directly to the cell that held Potter. Without an inkling that this particular creature comfort was inspired by a Muggle home entertainment system, he added the surround sound to the video. 

_ "...bloody, stupid, buggering son-of-a..." _ , Potter's voice was transported to his ears. Draco allowed himself a pleased huff. Potter's rant was already losing steam, but he knew it would soon pick up again. 

The lights went out. 

_ "Fuck." _

Contrary to Draco's expectation, Potter did not appear to mind the dark. Draco himself did not mind, either, the charms on the cell allowing him to see Potter perfectly well even without the torch light. Still, this was a surprise. 

Draco took a sip of water and snatched a few grapes from a plate on his dresser, then he settled back comfortably against his bed. And like a Muggle would hit 'play' on his remote, he activated the charms on Harry's toys. 

* * *

A white light flashed through the darkness. 

Harry blinked, unsure of whether he had just imagined it, when the ring around his cock vibrated. 

_ Oh. _

The light flashed again, and with about a second's delay, the vibration was repeated.  Harry tried to raise his head and look at what was going on when the next light flashed, but there was nothing much to be seen - a quick flash, then darkness. Then vibrations. 

Harry let his head sink back to the floor and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible. If that was all that was going to happen, he'd be here a while...

Of course, he should not have underestimated Malfoy like that. And really, he did know better. He just had absolutely no idea what to expect. So when a blue light flashed, he was so surprised it took him a moment to understand that there was no vibration this time; rather, a feeling like a jolt of electricity ran through his body, starting in his arse. 

This was getting interesting. 

Another flash of white light announced more vibrations, several more of those followed; then another flash of blue. Harry's body jerked. That had been stronger than before. 

Harry was getting a little troubled by this. Where had Malfoy gone? Was this setup safe to be left alone with? What if something went wrong, would Malfoy know? Harry could be electrocuted in this cell without Malfoy being any the wiser as far as Harry knew. 

_ Damn that snake. _

Still, Harry could not deny that the increasing frequency of the vibrations on his cock were pleasant, and so far, the jolts from that _thing_ in his arse were also more pleasure than pain. Harry decided not to worry about things he could not change anyway and just to enjoy what was happening. 

Soon, he was moaning loudly and writhing on the floor in abandon as the vibrations became near-constant and the jolts flashing through him at irregular intervals had him gasping in delicious pleasure-pain. 

Then a red light flashed. 

Harry froze. What...?

"AAAARGH!"

The third toy had activated and the clamps bit down fiercely into his nipples. 

Harry gasped painfully. Fuck, but that hurt! 

He had no time to recover from the shock of that pain, though, for already the other lights were flashing again and his hard erection was valiantly trying to get even harder. Harry was soon immersed in the pleasure of the vibrations and hot jolts of magic or electricity or whatever-else-don't-care-but-it-feels-good once more. But this time, he remained alert and anxiously on the lookout for the red light at all times. 

When it flashed again, he tried to brace himself for the pain; still, it hit him just as badly as before. 

"AAAAAH! FUCK! ...Fuck!"

This time, there was even less recovery time than before. Considering that before, he'd already termed it 'none', that was pretty impressive. What happened was that instead of keeping to the same frequency as before, the flashing of the other toys increased the moment the red light flashed. Harry shuddered and moaned wildly, his brain once more struggling to separate the pain and pleasure running like fire up and down his body. 

Harry's body twitched and spasmed on the cold dungeon floor, and he threw his head back and forth with abandon. He wanted his hands, wanted to touch himself and bring himself to completion, wanted to rut against this fucking cold floor, dammit, he wanted to _move_! But he was trapped and helpless and reduced to _this_ by Draco bloody Malfoy and oh wow, what a picture he must make right now, _OUCH, RED LIGHT!_ and the white light was near-constant now, and damn those spanks had felt good earlier and oh wow, the sight of Malfoy's cock and wow, that blue light really was something else and he wondered if when Malfoy came back he was going to fuck - 

_ RED LIGHT! _

With the image of Malfoy fucking him at the forefront of his mind, Harry came with a strangled groan. 

The light-show stopped. 

Harry lay panting in the dark, trying to get his wits back about him, trying to recover from the exhausting business of being subjected to such wildly different stimuli outwith his own control. 

Wow, what a rush. 

* * *

On his bed in his nicely sun-bathed bedroom, Draco lay comfortably pleasuring himself to the sound of Potter's moans. He watched Potter's face as he came and it nearly brought him off himself. But Draco had plans yet for today, and he did not want to take the potion he had forced on Potter. 

He fancied himself above such things. 

So he kept leisurely stroking himself while Potter lay struggling with the aftermath of his orgasm. _Let's not be too nice_ , Draco decided after less than three minutes. _On with the show._

The red light that flashed across his mirror was bright enough to nearly make Draco himself jump, but he had been forewarned and so he just flinched minutely before focusing his entire attention on Potter's face and the look of doom that overtook it at the sight of that immensely bright red light. 

_"I'm so screwed,"_ he thought he heard Potter say before an ear-piercing scream tore through his room. 

Draco laughed and leaned back to watch more comfortably as Potter was bombarded with red lights, with only a few minutes of soothing whites and the occasional blue thrown in to let him catch his breath. And even so, Potter's erection eventually recovered and came back full-out after - he checked his clock - not even twenty minutes. _Much more of a masochist than I'd imagined in my wildest dreams!_

He'd never look at that man with the same eyes again. 

The tension in the cell built quickly, this time, and Draco's eyes grew glassy as he watched and listened to Potter being tortured by the toys he had placed on him, and in him. He had done this to Potter, and the frazzled, debauched state of the Gryffindor poster boy was entirely his work. 

Rarely had he been so proud of himself.

A loud, plaintive moan from the mirror went straight to Draco's cock and he began stroking himself more vigorously. Then a series of blue lights shook Potter like an unforgivable curse and the look on his face drove Draco crazy. 

_ "Fuck you, Malfoy!" _ he heard right before Potter erupted for the second time in Draco's mirror. Draco tugged at himself harshly as Potter whined with the strength of his orgasm. Then, with barely a minute's pause, the white light came back on. 

Potter's face twisted in horror. 

And Draco came. 

* * *

Despite the lack of a break before the Third Round, as Harry had termed it in his head, this one was a lot less intense than the painful second one. There were plenty of vibrations, and while his prick was having a hard time getting up again, it was not yet stimulated to the point of being more painful than anything else. The red light barely made any appearances, which Harry was grateful for, since he felt as though his nipples would be chewed clean off with just a few more of those attacks. 

When Harry came, he came from a single jolt of blue amidst the white. He sighed in blissful relief. 

It was over. 

...Or so he thought. For about five minutes. Then the lights slowly started up again. 

"Oh you've got to be fucking kidding me. Malfoy, you said four times. I've come four times, let me up! MALFOY, DAMN YOU, YOU STINKING FERRET! GET YOUR ARSE IN HERE RIGHT NOW AND SWITCH THIS CRAP THE FUCK OFF!"

Nothing. 

Except for a bright red light. 

"FUCK!"

Harry was exhausted. He didn't think he could get it up again if his life depended on it. He was dehydrated, tired and completely shagged out. Everything hurt, his nipples most of all. It was enough! 

He should never have believed a stupid Slytherin's word. 

Harry kept groaning and angrily mumbling to himself for a good ten minutes, before deciding it was simply too much work. He didn't have the energy for it. 

So instead, he once more fell back into the flashing lights, trying vainly to detect any kind of pattern. And, rather against his will, his cock twitched, then grew again. 

_ What was in that phial?! _

This time, the lights started out very much like the first time. White lights at long intervals, slowly joined by blue ones, then finally red ones showing up, as well. Still, the blue jolts were stronger and the red ones weaker than before, so Harry did not trust things to be exactly as before. 

He felt his fifth climax slowly, but relentlessly approaching when the pattern finally changed in a dramatic fashion. 

First, the white light came on and stayed on for what felt like a full minute. Harry enjoyed the vibrations, but was afraid what that would mean for the others. 

He was right to be afraid. 

The blue light went next, and while it may have stayed on shorter than the white, it was still long enough to keep Harry twitching from the consecutive jolts for quite a while after it was over. 

The red light was pure, undiluted agony. Had Harry thought before that his nipples were about to come off, now he was suddenly hyper-aware of just where they were joined to his body, for the pain seemed to project outward from them towards his belly, his arms and his shoulders. It was so intense that it took his breath away for several seconds. 

Panting, he came down from that head rush, his eyes thrown wide open to prepare as best he could for the next onslaught. 

White lights flashed. And again. Again. Regularly, this time. It was like a countdown, Harry thought with dry humour. _...six... five... four... three... two... one..._

All hell broke lose. 

Harry's cell was illuminated bright as day as red, blue and white lights started chaotically flashing atop each other. 

"Oh no-no-no-No-No-NO-NONONOO- _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!_ "

When the pain and pleasure hit after that second of time delay, Harry knew what was coming, but was absolutely unprepared to meet it. During the first three turns, he had never had two stimuli coinciding for more than a half a second or so; and usually only at half strength. Now, they were hitting him with full force, one atop the other - his cock vibrating down the entire length, with his balls humming along and even his thighs quaking; his arse clenching tightly around the little rod that sent pulse after pulse of heightened sensation through all the veins in his body; and the clamps seeming to _rotate_ on his blasted nipples, chewing, pinching, _hurting_ them for all they were worth. 

Harry screamed. 

And screamed. 

And came. 

* * *

Draco watched with immense pleasure as Potter blacked out from that last orgasm. 

He had laughed himself silly at the Gryffindor's look when he realized that Draco had not meant a total of four orgasms, but rather four _without_ counting that first one Draco had given to him directly when he was still down in that cell with Potter. 

Then, he had watched with great anticipation for the great, furious climax. Potter's incredulous face and his chant of _"no-no-no"_ , as though to ward of his doom, cracked Draco up again and he was wiping a tear from his eye when he opened the door to Potter's cell. 

Potter was just slowly coming to, lifting his head woozily and peering at Draco from under his tousled, sweat-soaked mop of raven hair. "You're mad, Malfoy. You know that, right?"

"You have a best friend who considers expulsion worse than dying; your parents' best friend considers you dinner the night of the full moon; and you have a Dark Lord out for your blood. I assume you calling me mad is a compliment."

Potter forced a weak smile. "You do have a point," he rasped. "And you don't even know my relatives."

Draco decided that was a story for another time. "Have some water," he said instead, holding a bottle of clear spring water to Potter's lips. The man drank eagerly. In one fluid motion, Draco replaced the water bottle with a potions phial, and the still disoriented Potter drank that down, as well. Steam rose from his ears. 

Right afterwards, he became a lot more alert. "Umh. Why do I need pepper-up now?"

Draco smirked. "I am not done with you yet, Potter."

Potter groaned. 

* * *

_ He is mad,  _ Harry thought.  _Barking!_

Malfoy had whipped his balls, wanked him, spanked him, choked him, then left him to be driven mad by repeated use of some toys that were almost certainly dark magic. Harry had been made to come five times, had endured immense amounts of pain and pleasure, and all he wanted to do now was sleep. And Malfoy still didn't have enough?!

"Do you think I'm super-human or something?" he asked, his voice scratchy from screaming. 

"No," Malfoy answered, "but I do believe in strengthening potions. Also, I still haven't made good use of you. Or, not directly, anyway."

"Huh?"

Harry did not like the look on Malfoy's face one bit as the blond withdrew a tiny hand mirror from his pocket. "You gave me a very lovely show," Malfoy said while activating the mirror. He held it in front of Harry's face - which flushed beet red in no time. 

The mirror showed himself, writhing on the dungeon floor in exquisite agony, testing his bonds to the limit as semen spurted from his erect penis. He looked utterly ravished and, if he did say so himself, extremely hot. 

"Huh." Harry did not feel that his response was appropriately eloquent, but, well, what _did_ one say to that?

Apparently, Malfoy did not expect him to say anything more. Once more, he rearranged Harry's shackles. This time, Harry ended up on hands and knees, facing one wall. This wall was where Malfoy then hung his little pocket mirror, expanding it to a full two meters diameter. Harry looked himself in the eyes, saw a smirking Malfoy behind him, and was torn between embarrassment and ...lust. 

He had not thought he had the energy left, for while the other potion had given him stamina, pepper-up would just give his body in general a boost; and that would surely not be enough to get him excited again any time this year. 

Well, apparently he'd underestimated his own randiness. Harry couldn't help it - he smirked at his own mirror image. _"Pervert,"_ he mouthed.

Meanwhile, Malfoy had made himself comfortable behind Harry. Now, he reached for Harry and despite all that had already happened to him, Harry flinched when he withdrew the tiny rod from his arse. 

Harry noticed he left the ring and clamps in place. 

A soft, manicured finger probing at his hole made Harry's breath hitch. To have so much happening to his body over the last several hours, and then to realize that he was still technically a virgin - that was a ridiculous thought. And yet he all at once felt pretty virginal and vulnerable when Malfoy pushed that finger inside. 

The tiny device had stretched him a little simply by being there. Still, it was uncomfortable having a live finger inside such an intimate place. Also, it hurt. And that was just one finger!

"Hurts," he breathed, no longer ashamed to say the first thing that came to mind. Not after he had realized that Malfoy had witnessed his ranting, moaning and finally, fainting, of the past hours through that mirror. 

The finger was withdrawn. "Well, we can't have that unless I'm doing it on purpose," Malfoy commented. 

When the finger returned, it was slick with some kind of goo, and it went in a lot more easily. Harry hummed his appreciation. This was colder, but felt a lot safer. He was exhausted, but he still had enough strength to derive a little pleasure from the slick finger moving in and out of his hole. 

A second finger joined the first, and though there was a mild burn, Harry did not much mind. To his surprise, even the third finger did not hurt much at all. Harry supposed he was just that relaxed from all the strenuous activities of the past hours. Or maybe Malfoy was using super-special magical lube. He neither knew nor cared, just as long as there was no excess of pain involved.

In altogether much less time than Harry would have thought, Malfoy proclaimed him ready and got into position behind Harry. The blunt tip of his penis pressed against Harry's hole and he felt his own cock stiffening again. Oh wow, but this was something else!

Harry looked straight ahead into the mirror and watched Malfoy's face as the blond entered him. The look of intense concentration slowly gave way to deep lust and animalistic hunger. A shiver ran down Harry's spine at that look. He felt like prey, only he had not a chance of running. 

Malfoy pushed forward and what seemed like a huge cock indeed forced its way into Harry's body. Harry groaned deeply. Fuck, that was a lot to take! But strangely, it also felt really good. Full, but not in a bad way. The burn around the ring of muscles at his entrance was delicious, and when Malfoy bumped against his prostate, sending sparks of an entirely different kind than the toys' impulses through Harry's body, he was well and truly hooked. 

"Oh, fuuck!"

"Indeed."

"Smartass."

"Tight ass."

"True."

Both men paused, considering the utter ridiculousness of that exchange. 

Then Malfoy shrugged and leant forward, pushing all the way in. Harry groaned deeply, and even Malfoy let out a breathy gasp. Then his hands clenched down on Harry's hips and he started moving in earnest. 

Malfoy set a punishing pace. It was all Harry could do to lock his elbows and keep from face-planting into the floor. His muscles and nerves soon screamed in protest, yet Malfoy relentlessly kept fucking him. 

Harry was exhausted. Pepper-up was all nice and good, but it _wasn't_ the same as a good rest, and he was not only physically, but also mentally exhausted. Still, this was such a fantastic experience, he wanted to be awake and alert during all of it, wanted to treasure it. But it was simply too _much_! 

A tear escaped Harry's eye, followed by a tiny whimper. He couldn't... he just... 

"Please..."

Malfoy paused. Slowly, his eyes searched for and found Harry's in the mirror. An unreadable expression was on his face as he asked: "Do you remember what you asked of me at the start, Potter?"

Harry stared at him blankly. 

"You said, and I quote," Malfoy said, a smile breaking out on his face that spelled DOOM in capital letters to Harry's mind, " _'_ _I want you to make me beg and cry,_ _take me_ _to a place where 'no' means 'yes' and 'please' means 'harder'._ _'_ Well then, Potter: beg for me!"

With these words, Malfoy  began fucking him in earnest, his hips pistoning into Harry at a punishing pace. Harry gasped and shuddered, his arms trembled and finally gave way. His  face on the floor, Harry was helplessly pushed and pulled back and forth by Malfoy's furious thrusts.  He felt the skin of his left cheek tear on the rough floor, but he could simply not get his arms underneath his body once more. 

Helplessly, he lay there as Malfoy fucked him,  not participating any longer, but being well and truly  _used_ . 

Harry did not know when he had started crying, but the sound of his own sobs startled him out of it. Now he did manage to push himself back up on his hands, after all. He looked up to see his own bloodshot eyes and bloody cheek, then raised his gaze further to meet Malfoy's steel grey orbs, looking at him with that superior smirk. One eyebrow was raised as though asking if he were ready to beg, yet. 

Harry firmly set his jaws before baring his teeth, just once. 

Malfoy understood. He grinned, then focused once again on pounding Harry through the dungeon floor. 

Christ, but the man had stamina! Harry wondered what kind of potions Draco Malfoy might have taken before returning to his cell. Surely, no man should be allowed to go on for this long and still not have come? 

His arse started aching, now. The rest of his body was aching anyway, every part of him feeling tired and abused.  Then Malfoy had the brilliant idea to switch on the vibrating ring again. 

"No, oh god, please, no!"

"I am glad you like it," Malfoy said evilly. 

Harry was out of his mind with exhaustion, with lust and with this whole fucking situation. Every time he raised his head, he was faced with his own devastated appearance - bloody, tear-streaked and exhausted, with his clothes hanging from his underarms and ankles in rags - in contrast with Malfoy's: flushed and sweaty, still fully dressed except for his open fly, and appearing fully in control of the situation. 

God, what a bastard. 

Harry hated him. And admired him. 

And right now, very much needed him. Harry was approaching his climax once more, for the sixth time today. But he had the distinct feeling that the humming of the ring would no longer be enough to get him off, not after his body having gone through so many more intense experiences today. So even while he hated Malfoy for continuing his relentless, bruising pace, Harry also loved him for it. It was nearly sure to get him off. 

Only, it didn't. 

Harry didn't understand it.  He felt just like he had before when he had come, only he wasn't coming. He whined in frustration. He was hot, he was aroused, his prick was hurting like mad and he needed to  _come_!  Why couldn't his stupid body do what it was supposed to?

A chuckle broke him out of his furious thoughts. Slowly, ever so slowly, he raised his head and met Malfoy's thoroughly amused eyes. "Like the change to the ring?" the blond devil asked. 

Harry sobbed. "You didn't."

"I assure you I did."

Harry's strength left him for the second time and he once more crashed to the floor. But Malfoy would have none of that. Ordering a  rubber bit and reins from a house elf,  Malfoy had outfitted Harry like a horse in no time and was forcing his head up. Harry had no choice but to lock his elbows anew with his last remaining strength and keep himself on his hands and knees. 

Once more, Malfoy immersed himself in the taxing business of fucking the living daylights out of Harry. The pain and exhaustion and that bloody fucking hell of a vibrator around his cock little by little drove Harry out of his mind until he was floating far off in subspace. Every push of that cock inside his arse was bliss, every hum of the vibrator like a mini-orgasm. Harry drifted off on the sensations, hugging them to himself at the same time as he felt distanced from his own body.

More than ever, he knew he had absolutely no control over what was happening to him. 

But just then, he did not awfully mind. 

Harry did not know how long he had been floating, or whether Malfoy's pace had changed at all during that time. What he did know was that Malfoy was reaching for his wand, saying a spell - and the nipple clamps that had been on him for  _hours_ came off, opening in no time at all.

Harry roared. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"

The pain was intense! Worse than anything that had gone before. Worse than those disco lights of red and white and blue at the end of the last round. Worse than having the skin of both his upper and lower cheeks split open. Worse than being nearly choked to death. Worse than falling from his broom in third year, come to think of it. 

Harry's world was pain. Far away, at the outer fringes of his awareness, he heard a low groan and felt something changing inside him. He would later connect the dots that this was Malfoy coming, driven over the edge by Harry's intense pain. 

But for now, all he knew was blackness.

* * *

Harry slowly came awake to an odd sensation in his lower regions. It was warm, and wet, and though it chafed a little, it wasn't altogether unpleasant... Harry kept his eyes closed and his head resting where it lay and just floated on the comfortable sensation as long as he could. 

Eventually, though, he knew he'd have to open his eyes. So, after a while, he did. 

Lifting his head, he saw a sight that matched the sensations perfectly, but still managed to surprise him: Draco Malfoy, lying on his stomach between Harry's legs, and sucking his cock. 

"Oh."

The mouth came off him with a slurping sound. "Welcome back, Potter." Then Malfoy bent back to his task. 

Harry groaned. "You are determined to kill me, aren't you?"

Malfoy chuckled, which felt really odd. Harry's balls drew up and he remembered a certain problem he'd had with coming before. A whine escaped before he could stop it. "Malfoy, _please_...!"

Once more, the mouth was pulled off. "Wish granted," was all he said before bending down to lick and suck more vigorously than ever. 

Harry first noticed that his hands and legs were finally free when one of his arms found its way into Malfoy's hair of its own accord. 

Huh. That seemed oddly familiar, only wrong way around. 

Malfoy chuckled again. 

Harry wondered dazedly if he was supposed to push Malfoy's head down. But somehow, he couldn't be bothered to do that. Why would he? Malfoy's head was great right where it was... Harry thought he might be missing something here, but it would surely come back to him later. When he was more awake. Less tired. Less preoccupied with watching his cock vanishing between those soft, full lips. 

Harry moaned softly. Then more loudly. He hoped very much that Malfoy hadn't lied to him. 

"Malfoy, I - I..."

He could feel the smirk around Malfoy's lips even as the other man swallowed him down to the root. 

"Ngaah!" Harry came, his back arching, his cock spurting every last drop of his semen down Malfoy's throat. 

Slowly, Harry sank back down to the floor. 

"T-Thank you, I suppose," he managed. 

"You are welcome," Malfoy said, licking a lost spot of come from the corner of his mouth. 

"Shit that's hot. But I'm seriously too exhausted to really appreciate it right now," Harry babbled. 

Malfoy gave a soft laugh that wasn't at all sneering or aloof. "I can believe that."

When Harry once more raised his eyes, Malfoy's grey ones looked back at him with a warmth that had never been in there before. "So, was it everything you hoped for, Potter?" he asked, and Harry heard no doubt or hesitation there. 

"It was," he answered honestly, smirking: "And then some."

Suddenly, both boys stiffened at the sound of foot steps. 

"Who?" Harry asked. 

"That would be your friends coming to rescue you. But my parents said four p.m.! Surely, it can't have been eight hours already?!"

Harry rasped a tired laugh. "Rather feels like eighteen, if you ask me!"

Malfoy grinned sheepishly. "I promised you more rest than this. I am sorry. - Another pepper-up, quickly! And a healing potion!" He was handed the requested bottles and shoved them at Harry, who drank one after the other down with a resigned air. 

Next, Malfoy raised his wand to repair Harry's clothes. He looked the other man over critically. Harry did the same in the mirror. Everything about him was still screaming "went through hell" to the untrained eye, or "just shagged" to the more discerning observer. But all the obvious signs were gone. His clothes were mostly patched, both sets of cheeks healed, the weak handprint on one cheek also gone, only the tear tracks remained, winding down through some indistinguishable dirt on his face.

"Good enough," Malfoy said. With a last nod to Harry, he vanished from the cell. 

Only minutes later, the door was forced open from the outside, and a horrified Ron, Hermione,  and several other sets of eyes looked in at a thoroughly shattered Harry Potter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun writing this. I'd love to know what everyone else thinks about it - constructive criticism is always welcome.


	5. Epilogue

"Have they all left?" Narcissa asked quietly as she joined her men on the balcony.

Lucius and Draco nodded. "They also took the other prisoners," Draco said languidly. "We will be punished for that, at least."

Narcissa sighed. "We all knew it was a risk. And that we were likely to pay a high price for betraying the Lord. Still, I do believe they are our best chance at surviving this war and coming out on the other side to see a world we would actually want to live in."

Lucius frowned, but did not argue the point again. Narcissa and Draco had worked on him for a long time, but eventually, he had had to admit that his Lord was quite unhinged and was only fit for tearing the world apart, not for building it up again afterwards. With the Dark Lord's victory, they would be left with a world that offered nothing to live for. 

With Potter and his companions, however... While there was no hope for the purebloods to be restored to their rightful station of supremacy, at least there was _hope_. 

"I wish them luck," he grudgingly agreed. Then he turned around, his mood lightening. "So, how did it go?" he asked, his smirk returning.

"Oh, the little dear was delightful," Narcissa grinned sharkishly. "Such an innocent boy, it was a pleasure despoiling him. And he hardly fought back after I showed him a glimpse of what his girlfriend was currently up to with you, dear husband. However did you get Granger to be so compliant?"

Lucius's smirk spread all the way across his cheeks. "I told her I had fed her an aphrodisiac."

Draco looked at his father flabbergasted. "And Hermione Brainiac Granger bought it?!"

Lucius swept some imaginary dust from his shoulder. "It was no great difficulty." His eyes gleamed as he added: "And it was such fun!"

Then both Malfoy parents turned towards their son - and their eyes opened wide to see him blush at their attention. "Do tell, Draco," his mother enticed in dulcet tones. 

Draco swallowed his discomfort, then displayed his best smirk. "We did it hard and dirty, in one of the cells. And before you reprimand me for going against our agreement: that is what he _wanted_! I never knew just what a twisted fuck that Potter is before today."

Lucius's raised eyebrow said it all. 

Draco rolled his eyes. "Check the monitoring spell if you don't believe me. But remember to clear it afterwards."

The corner of Lucius's mouth turned down in disgust. "What kind of a fool do you take me for?  The monitors will of course be erased. Also, the ancient spells of the Malfoys will prevent the day's events from being taken from our minds against our will.  And I am quite certain that our guests will not wish to tell the world exactly what they got up to with the evil Death Eaters.  It has been true since our forefathers built the manor, and it will remain true long after we are dead and gone: What happens  at Malfoy Manor - "

"- stays at Malfoy Manor," all three of them finished in unison.

* * *

Nineteen years later,  Ron and Hermione were happily married and had several children. They had never talked about what had happened to them that day at the manor, but both had a fairly  accurate idea. And if Hermione was a little too proficient at giving head 'for the first time', and if Ron was a little less clueless about where to stick it than Hermione might otherwise have assumed, neither of them mentioned it. 

Harry had married Ginny and they'd also had quite a few children. Different from their friends, however, the two of them  _had_ talked, and so Ginny was as well-informed about Harry's experiences with Draco as he was about the nights she shared with Dean and Seamus while Harry was out hunting for horcruxes. They had talked about it at length, and  eventually came to an agreement that if Ginny wanted to 'have a beer' with Dean and Seamus for old times' sake, and Harry was close to the stigmatized Malfoys to the extent that he sometimes 'had tea' with Draco at his parents' manor, neither of them ever lost another word about it. 

After all, what happened at the manor stayed at the manor.

  
  


~ The End. ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. ^^ And as I said before: Comments are greatly appreciated!


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